Take Me to Church
by quinzellharley
Summary: I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife. Offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life. Sherlock Holmes x OC, Slight Mycroft x OC.
1. A Study In Pink 1

I am so shocked and appalled that I had not seen Sherlock yet! Especially with how much I like Benedict Cumberbatch. My host family makes it an occasion on Christmas Day to watch through the first two seasons of Sherlock and I am absolutely hooked! Ever since Christmas I've been watching Sherlock on repeat and I needed to write a story asap puddin's! Hope you enjoy! xoxo

* * *

Céline Brown was taking a taxi in to work early. She wore her usual, a calf-length black mock neck dress with sheer black tights, black Oxford heels, and her thin trench coat. Her long brown hair was tied into a curly ponytail and her bangs curled around her face. She wore simple makeup. Just foundation, a simple brown smokey eye, as well as a sheer cherry colored lip rouge. Céline had gotten a call that morning from Lestrade, her colleague, and boss. She was also a detective and worked under him as an assistant detective inspector on the Scotland Yard.

She had wanted to work for the Scotland Yard since she was very young. When she was 11 she witnessed her father murder her mother and it had profoundly affected her wish to be a detective inspector.

The past couple months the Scotland Yard had been dealing with, what appeared to be, a case of serial suicides. Early that morning a third one had been reported and they were to give a press conference with Sally Donovan at 8 am.

When Céline got to work she quickly went to her desk when suddenly her phone beeped. It was _his_ ringtone, Sherlock Holmes's. She took out her phone and read the text.

 _They aren't suicides. I have been reading up in the papers. Taking care of my own case this morning, cannot make it to official press appearance._

Sherlock Holmes had targeted Céline as the one person on the Scotland Yard team that was overtly open about respecting him and asking for his assistance. He saw her as an ally of sorts and always felt comfortable texting her and consulting with her before Lestrade officially asked him for help. Even outside of case solving the two were relatively acquainted. He would often spend time at her apartment when he needed a change of scenery and she would help him occasionally with mundane odds and ends that he didn't want to take care of on his own. The had met 5 years prior when Sherlock worked on his first case at the Scotland Yard.

Céline sighed, she set her coffee and bag down. As she prepared to text back Lestrade approached her desk.

"Céline, we are doing a debriefing before the press conference. We're set to start in five minutes." He spoke, passing her a file folder with the information from the new suicide case.

"Thank you, Lestrade I will meet you there." Céline replied. Lestrade nodded and left to go and set up the conference room. Céline quickly drafted up a reply.

 _That was my hypothesis as well. I will suggest it before we get to the conference._

Once she sent the text Sherlock replied instantly.

 _I knew you would see it too._

She shoved her phone into the pocket of her trench coat and pulled out her leather work folio from her handbag. She placed the file Lestrade gave her inside. She then grabbed her coffee and went to the conference room. When Céline entered the conference room. Sally and Lestrade were speaking. Sally looked her up and down.

"Good morning, Céline." Lestrade spoke as Céline sat down.

"Good morning." She replied.

"So let's get started." Sally snapped. Céline opened the new file.

"Our plan is to keep things vague and discuss the links between the three. We are operating as if they are suicides…" Lestrade began.

"But is that a good idea?" Céline asked. "Anyone who has read the paper today would know that they really don't sound like sucides, Lestrade." Sally was visibly annoyed at the question.

"Is that your boyfriend's theory?" Sally snapped at Céline. "There is no evidence to prove they aren't suicides."

"Sherlock Holmes is not my boyfriend and no it is my own theory Sally." Céline calmly replied. She was not about to tell Sally and Lestrade about the texts that morning.

"Sally…" Lestrade warned. "Céline has a point. However, we want to operate on this angle to prevent any public panic as we continue our investigation. Sally and I are going to be primarily speaking. But I also ask that you sit on the panel."

"Yes, that is fine with me." Céline replied.

Once they finished debriefing the information the three of them went downstairs. Céline tossed her old coffee and went to the little coffee shop on the bottom floor of the Scotland Yard office building. The press were checking in and getting settled in. As she waited for her coffee she texted Sherlock.

 _Suggested it. They still want to go with the suicide story to the press._

She saw him view the message. Then she saw a bubble come up for him typing. Then she saw the bubble go away and she got no reply. She grabbed her coffee and then joined Sally and Lestrade on the panel. After a few moments camera's were flashing and everyone settled down.

"The body of Beth Davenport, Junior Minister for Transport, was found late last night on a building site in Greater London. Preliminary investigations suggest that this was suicide. We can confirm this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore. In the light of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked. The investigation is on-going, but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take questions now." Sally spoke. The reporters exploded with questions. Finally, one was chosen to get the microphone. The intern rushed over to pass it over.

"Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?" The reporter asked.

In another area of town, Sherlock was at the hospital. He waited around at the check in where a T.V. was playing the press conference live. Once he got Céline's text he had prepared a group chat of all the reporters in attendance. He was annoyed that they had still decided to go with the suicide conclusion.

"They all took the same poison. They were all found in places they had no reason to be, none of them had shown any prior indication of…" Lestrade began.

"But you can't have serial suicides." Another reporter shouted, cutting Lestrade off. Lestrade furrowed his brow.

"Apparently you can." Lestrade retorted. He shared a knowing look with Céline.

Sherlock saw the look between the two on the television screen and frowned, he typed out a message, waiting for the right moment to send it.

"These three people…there's nothing that links them?" Another reporter asked as the mic was passed.

"There's no link we've found yet, but we're looking for it…there has to be one." As Lestrade spoke the reporters went to write the answer to the question down. However, suddenly, a chorus of phone rings all went off with every phone in the room. Everyone but Céline and Lestrade checked their phones, they were both certain of who it was.

 _Wrong._

Sally frowned when she saw the message and slammed her phone down on the desk.

"If you've all got texts, please ignore them." Sally spoke up.

"It just says wrong." One of the reporters observed. Sherlock was watching closely.

"Yeah, well just ignore that." Sally spoke up again. "Look If there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm going to bring this session to an end." The reporters all protested and another one was passed the microphone.

"If they're suicides, what are you investigating?" Another reporter asked.

Sherlock's eyes wandered to Céline. She was taking notes in her folio, mulling over the new file Lestrade had passed her that morning. He made a note to stop by her house that evening to get the new information from her.

"As I say, these suicides are clearly linked, this is an unusual situation, and we have our best people investigating." Lestrade spoke. As Sherlock heard him he quickly send another text. Céline looked up from her writing as another chorus of text's rang. This time she stuck her pocket into her trench coat and pulled out her phone. She cracked a small amused smile at the text.

"Says wrong again." A reporter shouted out. This time Lestrade and Sally were both visibly angry.

"One more question." Sally snapped, ignoring the reporter and the text. The microphone was passed to a female reporter.

"Is there any chance these are murders, and if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?" The reporter asked.

"I know you like writing about those, but these do appear to be suicides. We know the difference…the poison was clearly self-administered." Lestrade responded. Céline could see that Lestrade was getting more upset.

"Yes, but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?" The female reporter pressed.

"Don't commit suicide." Lestrade sarcastically replied, Sally whispered something to him and he took a deep breath, rolling his eyes. "Obviously this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be." Once Lestrade spoke the reporters began to furiously write his quote down when all of a sudden another text tone chorus rang through the room. Céline looked at her phone again and saw she had received a different text outside of the group chat from Sherlock.

 _Working with a riding crop and corpse. Won't be able to reply until this evening. Text with updates._

Sally noticed Céline looking at her phone, she appeared to be typing a reply, and Sally frowned. She knew that she had to be texting Sherlock back.

Once the conference was over, Sherlock headed down to the morgue with his riding crop and Lestrade, Sally, and Céline all returned to their offices. As they got on the elevator and as the door to it closed Sally crossed her arms.

"You've got to stop him from doing that. He's making us look like idiots." Sally furiously demanded. Lestrade put his arms up defensively.

"You tell me how he does it and I'll stop him." Lestrade replied. Sally immediently looked at Céline.

"I'm sure we could find out how he does it…" Sally snapped at Céline. Once the elevator opened Céline left without a word.

"Stop picking on Céline." Lestrade scolded Sally as they all returned to their desks. Celine unpacked all of the files and was looking through everything. She noticed that in all of the cases the victims had taken a taxi and she noticed a couple odds and ends that might relate them. She made a note of it and pulled out her phone, texting Sherlock.

Sherlock heard the text but didn't check it. He was busy working on a private case. He unzipped a body bag and studied the body. Molly Hooper was standing opposite him.

"How fresh?" Sherlock asked.

"Just in. 67, natural causes. Used to work here, donated his body. I knew him. He was nice." Molly sadly spoke.

"Fine." He replied, smiling. "We'll start with the riding crop then."

Molly looked horrified but left him alone, she walked by and saw him beating the body with it. When he appeared to be done she came in after having applied some lipstick. She had a large crush on him and had been planning to ask him for coffee and she reasoned that today could be the day.

"So. Bad day, was it?" She jokingly spoke. He ignored her joke and set the riding crop aside, pulling out his phone to read Céline's text.

"I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. Text me." Sherlock spoke as he continued to read through the updates Céline had sent over.

"Listen, I was wondering, maybe later, when you're finished…" Molly began before he could leave. Sherlock looked up at her, he quickly noticed her lipstick.

"Are you wearing lipstick? You weren't wearing lipstick before." He observed. Molly blushed.

"I just ... refreshed it a bit." Molly nervously spoke. Sherlock perked an eyebrow.

"Sorry, you were saying?" He curtly spoke.

'I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee?" She asked. He appreciated the gesture but misunderstood that it was Molly's way of asking him on a date.

"Black, two sugars, please I'll be upstairs." He replied, not looking up from his phone, texting Céline back and leaving for the upstairs lab.

* * *

Later that day, Céline was in the break room warming up her lunch. Sally came in to get hers from the fridge and glared at her.

"How is the conspiracy research coming?" Sally coldly spoke.

"Just fine, thank you," Céline replied, her kind tone dripping with annoyance. Sally rolled her eyes. Céline quickly left back to her desk. Lestrade was sitting in her seat waiting for her.

"Hello, Céline. I just wanted to come and see how things were going." He smiled, getting up from her chair so she could sit. Céline set her lunch down and then went into her folio, searching for a draft she had typed up. "Also…I wanted to say. I'm sorry about Sally."

"Oh, it's alright Lestrade." Céline replied, handing him a compilation of evidence.

"Céline please, it's Greg." He replied, his voice softening a bit. Céline frowned at him.

"Lestrade. I shouldn't call you that and you know it. It would be the only woman on the force to." Céline spoke. Lestrade looked over the evidence.

"Well…what if I'm okay with that?" He asked, in almost a whisper. Céline blushed. Lestrade had been pursuing her for the last couple of months. While she did have a small crush on him, she always tried to avoid the subject since he had a wife.

"Is your wife alright with that?" Céline asked. Lestrade shrugged, preparing to make a copy of the evidence list she compiled.

"She's been sleeping with the local PE teacher, she met him at the grocery store." Lestrade sadly replied. He gave Céline back her original copy and took the new copy. Leaving back to his office.

* * *

When Céline left work that evening she made a quick stop at the grocer before coming home. She had one paper bag of groceries that she carried into her flat. When she got inside to her door she noticed that the door had been picklocked open and was unlocked. She rolled her eyes and stormed into her apartment.

"You can't just wait outside for me to get here?" She snapped at Sherlock, setting her grocery bag and handbag down on the counter. She then took off her trench coat off, hanging it by the door. Sherlock was sitting on her couch.

"But that's not as fun...plus you took a little longer than usual." He smirked, standing up and walking over to her kitchen counter. Céline lived in a one bedroom flat in London. It was a 5 minute walk from 221b Baker Street. Her house was very sparsely decorated and was pretty empty.

In her living room, she had a small tv mounted on the wall and a single couch. She also had a single bookshelf beside the couch that was overflowing with books as well as a few stack of books on her coffee table.

Her bedroom had a bed centered on the back wall, a side table, a large window with dark purple velvet drapes, a full body mirror leaning against the wall and a clothing rack.

In the kitchen there was a bowl of fruit on the island that always remained empty, there were also two stools so the island could be used as a table.

"At this rate, I should just make you a key," Céline grumbled as she washed her lunch containers and dried them.

"Maybe you should?" Sherlock suggested. Céline shot him a look. "I have a flatmate now."

"Oh really?" She asked, pulling out some pasta and vegetables she had made the previous evening out of the fridge. She turned on the stove and began to heat up the leftovers in a pan.

"Yes, he's a war doctor. I think he would be useful. Now maybe I'll have a forensic's person who wants to work with me." Sherlock spoke. "Was there anything else from today?"

"Check my folio it's in my handbag." She replied. Sherlock eagerly opened her purse and removed the leather folio. He opened it and then sat down on one of the stools reading through it. Céline took out two plates from the cupboard and split up the leftovers between them. She brought cutlery over with the plates and sat beside Sherlock. He quickly took the plate.

"Thank you." He excitedly spoke before beginning to eat as he looked over the notes. Céline ate with him and watched him as he studied the papers.

Her phone suddenly rang during the meal and she checked it, it was Lestrade asking if she wanted to go have dinner with him. Sherlock curiously watched her once her phone rang. He had memorized all of her different ringtones for each person in her phone and knew it was Lestrade. He also noticed her face wrinkle up in both annoyance and sadness. She typed out a polite decline. He decided to not ask her about it.

"Céline?" Sherlock spoke up.

"Yes?" She asked, not looking up from her phone as she typed.

"So, Miss. Hudson won't let me move my things in from storage until tomorrow morning." He began. Céline finished typing out the response and stood up, taking both of their empty plates to the sink to wash them.

"You can sleep on the couch." She replied. Sherlock smiled, she was almost as sharp as he was.

"Thank you." Sherlock replied. He took his shoes off at the door and went over to the couch, lying down and reading through the case files. After dinner, Céline went to take a shower. She emerged an hour later. She was in a bathrobe and her hair was wet.

"Does everything make sense?" Céline asked him as she walked to the fridge to get a bottle of water.

"Your notes make sense, the case almost does." Sherlock responded. Her folio was sitting on his chest and he was laying there staring up at the ceiling in thought.

"Well, I'm going to bed. I have an early morning again." Céline spoke, leaving off to her room. "Knock if you need anything." She shouted before shutting the door.


	2. A Study In Pink 2

The next morning when Céline woke up at 6 am Sherlock was gone. He had left her folio on the coffee table and had neatly put back all of the papers. He also had sent her a text that read.

 _Moving in. The new address is 221b Baker Street. Five minutes away. Still make that key._

After returning her folio to her bag where it belonged she got dressed. That morning she put on a black long sleeved skater dress, her sheer tights, and her black heeled oxfords. She packed up her bag for work and put on her trench coat, heading out the door. She stopped by the shop at the corner to make a copy of the key and she pocketed it until she was able to pass it to Sherlock. When she got to work she stopped at the small coffee shop on the bottom floor but before she paid Lestrade swooped in and ordered his own coffee, paying for both of their drinks.

"You are really too kind." Céline blushed.

"It's the least I can do. I couldn't take you out last night after all." Lestrade quickly replied. As they waited for their coffee they talked about their mornings. Céline didn't mention Sherlock's visit or how he stayed over.

* * *

That evening around 7 pm Céline was packing up to go home. She decided to stay in the office late that evening. Lestrade was also staying late, he was in his office. She heard a call come through as she was packing up and Lestrade took it. After speaking for a few minutes Lestrade rushed in.

"I just called in Sally and the forensic's squad on call.." He began. Céline put her bag down.

"There's been another?" She worriedly spoke, Lestrade nodded.

"You and I can take the car over, they found her in Brixton at Lauriston Gardens." He spoke. Céline nodded and fetched a small notebook and pen from her folio that she put in her trench coat pocket with her phone. She also locked her handbag into her desk drawer. Lestrade waited for her at the door. As she walked over she made sure to text Sherlock.

 _There's been a fourth._

As they got into the car Lestrade quickly pulled out of the parking complex and began to drive. A call came in from Sally, Lestrade put it on speaker.

"What's it look like?" Lestrade asked. Céline listened.

"This one is different." Sally began. "She scratched up the floor and left a message. Just get down here as quick as you can." Sally hung up.

"Lestrade. We should really get some help." Céline suggested. "I don't think we're going to get anywhere if we don't…"Lestrade thought for a long moment before agreeing.

"Fine, where is he?" He asked, knowing that Céline probably knew.

"221b Baker Street," Céline replied, directing Lestrade there. She texted Sherlock again.

 _Be there in 10. Have the military doctor ready._

* * *

Lestrade and Céline arrived at the address within minutes and Céline led them upstairs. The door was open and Sherlock was standing there and a thickset, weathered looking man with a cane, John Watson, was sitting in a recliner. Miss. Hudson was standing in the kitchen. Sherlock was expecting them. When Céline came in Sherlock greeted her.

"Where?" He asked her. Watson watched them, he had no idea who she was. He was surprised when Sherlock took her hands into his as he spoke.

"Brixton. Lauriston Gardens." Céline replied, squeezing his hands.

"Céline dearie, I haven't seen you in so long!" Miss. Hudson exclaimed. Céline went to over and greeted her as Lestrade came in behind her. Miss. Hudson and Céline had met when Sherlock decided he wanted to move in there. Céline had helped Sherlock find the apartment and put in a good word for him just before he helped Miss. Hudson with her husband in Florida.

"What's different about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something new." Sherlock barked at Lestrade.

"You know how they never leave notes?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes." Sherlock quickly replied.

"This one did. Will you come?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock smirked, Céline knew he would say yes. As Sherlock thought for a moment she knelt beside the man on the chair and offered her hand.

"I'm Céline." She introduced herself. Watson shook her hand.

"I'm John Watson." He replied.

"It's a pleasure." Céline smiled.

"Who's on Forensics?" Sherlock suddenly asked. Céline stood and crossed her arms. Her and Lestrade exchanged a glance.

"Anderson," Lestrade answered. Sherlock scoffed.

"Anderson won't work with me." He pouted.

"He won't be your assistant," Lestrade argued.

"But I need an assistant." Sherlock pouted again. Céline walked over to Lestrade.

"Sherlock, please. Will you come?" She softly asked. Sherlock's face curled up and he took a peek outside. Watson saw his face soften and his arms cross once she asked him.

"Not in a police car. I'll be right behind you." He replied to Céline. Céline smiled.

"Thank you." She spoke before leaving with Lestrade. "We'll get you a taxi."

* * *

Once they left Céline flagged down a cab for them. The two men had come down and got into the taxi to follow Lestrade and Céline. Sherlock made a mental note of Lestrade's conduct around Céline, he opened the door for her and helped her inside the car before getting in on his own side.

Lestrade and Céline made it to the crime scene a few minutes before Sherlock and Watson. Lestrade went to go talk with Sally and Céline went upstairs to look around. Once Lestrade went inside Sherlock and Watson got there and began toward the crime scene.

"Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" Watson asked. Sally saw them as they approached and walked up, blocking them from the crime scene.

"Hello, Freak." Sally snapped, crossing her arms. "You're girlfriends inside already." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade and Céline, although she is not my girlfriend." Sherlock matter-of-factly spoke.

"Why?" Sally asked.

"I think they want me to take a look." Sherlock sarcastically replied.

"Well you know what I think, don't you?" Sally asked, getting into Sherlock's face. Sherlock looked her up and down and took note of a few things.

"Always, Sally. I even know you didn't make it home last night." He slyly spoke. Sally glared, she tried to change the subject.

"Who's this?' She asked, gesturing toward Watson.

"Colleague of mine, Dr. Watson. Dr. Watson…Sergeant Sally Donovan. Old friend." Sherlock introduced. Watson stood there awkwardly. Sally laughed.

"A colleague, how'd you get a colleague?" She asked, amused. She turned to Watson. "Did he follow you home?"

"Look, would it be better if I just…" Watson began, not wanting to fight.

"No." Sherlock snapped. He and Sally stared each other down for another moment and she raised her walkie-talkie.

"Freak's here. Bringing him in." She raised the caution tape and Sherlock and Watson followed her. Sherlock studied the house closely as they walked up. Watson noticed and looked around too. A lanky man dressed in forensic garb suddenly stormed out of the house.

"I was hoping Céline had misspoke when she told me you were coming." Anderson glared.

"Anderson! Here we are again." Sherlock knowingly spoke.

"It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. We clear on that?" Anderson scolded. Sherlock was getting annoyed.

"And is your wife away for long?" Sherlock retorted. Anderson turned red.

"…Don't pretend you worked that out. Someone told you that!" Anderson snapped.

"Your deodorant told me that." Sherlock quickly retorted. Anderson's face curled up in confusion.

"My deodorant?" He asked.

"It's for men…" Sherlock spoke, amused.

"Of course it's for men, I'm wearing it." Anderson snapped.

"So is Seargent Donovan." Sherlock quickly snapped back. Anderson and Sally both exchanged mortified glances. "Oh! And I think it just vapourised! May I go in?"

"You listen to me, okay. Whatever you're trying to imply…" Anderson began, his face turning bright red.

"I'm not implying anything…I'm sure Sally just came round for a lovely little chat and happened to stay over. And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees…" Sherlock responded. Céline had wondered where he was and wandered down, she poked her head outside and saw the group standing there.

"Sherlock, Watson, what's keeping you? Come on." Céline waved them in. Sally and Anderson shared a glance and Sherlock triumphantly strode past them, Watson in tow. She led them upstairs. Lestrade was in full crime scene gear, Céline and Watson also got geared up as Sherlock and Lestrade talked.

"I can give you two minutes," Lestrade spoke.

"I may need longer," Sherlock argued. Lestrade saw Watson and frowned.

"Who is this?" Lestrade asked.

"John Watson," Céline replied. "He's with Sherlock." Lestrade rolled his eyes at Sherlock but then nodded. Lestrade and Céline then led them upstairs to the crime scene. Céline read off some notes from her notebook.

"Her name is Jennifer Wilson, according to her credit card, Sally is running them now for contact details. She hasn't been here long. Some kids found her." Céline explained as they all entered the room and stood around the body. The woman laying on the ground was wearing a bright pink coat and matching pink shoes.

"Shut up!" Sherlock suddenly snapped at Lestrade after a brief silence.

"I didn't say anything." Lestrade snapped back.

"You were thinking. It's annoying." Sherlock quickly replied. Sherlock took a couple steps around the body. He took a peek at Céline and noticed her studying the message on the ground that had been scratched into the floor. His eyes followed her gaze and he knelt beside the message. After a few minutes of Sherlock looking around, he turned to Lestrade.

"Anything?" Céline asked. Sherlock gave her a smirk.

"Not much." He triumphantly replied, giving her a little wink.

"She's German." Anderson suddenly spoke from the door. "Rache is German for Revenge. She could be trying to tell us something."

"Yes, thank you for your input." Sherlock flatly spoke. Sherlock quickly waltzed over and shut the door in his face as he checked the weather on his phone.

"She's German?" Lestrade asked.

"Of course, she's not German. She's from out of town though. Planned to spend a single night in London, before returning home to Cardiff. So far, so obvious." Sherlock spoke. Céline giggled a bit.

"Sorry, obvious?" Watson asked.

"But what about the message?" Lestrade pressed.

"Dr. Watson, what do you think?" Sherlock asked Watson, eyeing him expectantly.

"Of the message?" Watson asked. Sherlock shook his head.

"Of the body, you're a medical man," Sherlock replied.

"We have a whole team right outside…" Lestrade protested.

"They won't work with me." Sherlock flatly spoke. Lestrade scoffed, looking to Céline for back up, she shrugged.

"I'm breaking every rule letting you in here." Lestrade protested again. Sherlock stepped close to him.

"Yes, because you need me," Sherlock replied.

"Yes, I do. God help me." Lestrade observed, leaving them in the room. He gave Céline a look as he left. She knew he wanted her to keep an eye on the two men.

"Dr. Watson!" Sherlock asked once Lestrade left, telling Anderson to keep everyone out.

"What am I doing here?" Watson asked kneeling beside the body.

"Helping me make a point," Sherlock spoke.

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent!" Watson argued. Céline watched the two men argue.

"Yeah, but this is more fun," Sherlock replied. Watson looked taken aback.

"Fun? There is a woman lying dead!" He snapped.

"Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you'd go deeper." Sherlock quickly retorted. Watson sigh and began to examine the body. Lestrade came back in and stood beside Céline.

"Asphyxiation probably. Passed out, and choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her, could've been a seizure, possibly drugs?" Watson suggested.

"You know what it was, you've read the papers," Sherlock replied.

"Sherlock, two minutes I said. I need anything you've got." Lestrade asked.

"Victim is in her late forties. A professional person going by her clothes, I'd guess something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. She's traveled from Cardiff today, intending to stay for one night, that's obvious from the size of her suitcase…" Sherlock began.

"Suitcase?" Lestrade asked, exchanging confused glances with Céline. She took out the updated list of evidence and looked it over.

"Suitcase, yes. She's been married for at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers, but none of them have known she was married…" Sherlock continued.

"For God's sake. If you're just making this up!" Lestrade snapped.

"The wedding ring, ten years old at least. The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding rings, state of her marriage, right there. The inside of the rings are shinier than the outside. That means they're regularly removed; the only polishing they get is when she works them off her finger. It's not for work. Look at her nails, she doesn't work with her hands, so what, or rather who, does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover, she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over time - so more likely a string of them. Simple!" Sherlock continued.

"Brilliant!" Watson observed. The other three looked at him. "Sorry."

"But Cardiff?" Lestrade asked.

"Obvious, isn't it?" Sherlock asked back.

"Not obvious to me," Watson replied.

"Dear God, what's it like in your funny little brains, it must be so boring." Sherlock laughed.

"It's the rain isn't it?" Céline asked, checking the weather report on her phone. She had noticed the coat was damp when she came in and just realized that was how he got Cardiff. She made eye contact with Sherlock and he smirked and nodded.

"Her coat!" Sherlock pointed out to Watson and Lestrade. "It's slightly damp - she's been in heavy rain within the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London at that time. Under her coat collar is damp too. She turned it up against the wind! She's got an umbrella in her left pocket but it's unused and dry. Not just wind, strong wind - too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she's staying overnight so she must have a come a decent distance. But she can't have traveled more than two or three hours, because her coat hasn't dried. So where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? Cardiff." Sherlock explained.

"But, Sherlock. We haven't got her suitcase." Céline spoke, finishing looking over the evidence list forensics gave her when she got there.

"How do you know she had a case?" Lestrade asked, looking from Céline to Sherlock.

"Back of her right leg. Tiny splashes on the heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her, with her right hand - you don't get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious could only be an overnight bag. So we know she was staying one night." Sherlock spoke as he waltzed out of the room. "Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase, was there a suitcase in this house!?" He shouted. Lestrade and Céline walked out behind him. Watson followed behind them.

"Sherlock, there was no case," Céline shouted down at him from the top of the stairs.

"Céline it's murder. All of them. I don't know how, but they're not suicides, they're killings. We were right…serial killings! We've got a serial killer. Love those, there's always something to look forward to." Sherlock spoke to Céline.

"Why? Why are you saying that?" Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"Where's her case? Come on, where is it? Did she eat it? Someone else was here and they took the case." Sherlock trailed off. "So the killer must have driven her here forgot the case was in the car…"

"Maybe she checked into her hotel, left her case there?" Watson suggested.

"She never made it to her hotel! Look at her hair! She color coordinates her lipstick and her shoes, she'd never have left a hotel with her hair still like…" Sherlock suddenly stopped in the middle of his sentence and gasped. "OH! Serial killers are always hard. You've got to wait for them to make a mistake! And Houston, we have a mistake!"

"Lestrade get on to Cardiff, find Jennifer Wilson's family and friends, find Rachel. She wasn't writing an angry message in German she was writing Rachel." Sherlock snapped.

"Of course, yes. But what mistake?" Lestrade pressed.

"Pink!" Sherlock shouted before running out. Watson watched him go and frowned Céline put her hand on his shoulder.

"Dr. Watson, meet me outside and I can take you home," Céline spoke. Watson nodded and took off his crime scene garb, going to wait outside. "Lestrade, I trust you can take care of the crime scene?" Céline asked. Lestrade nodded.

"I'll call you once we wrap up to let you know our next plan," Lestrade spoke. Céline nodded and got out of her crime scene gear. She put on her trench coat and put her notebook into her pocket and checked her phone.

 _will find it in the next hour, bring Watson._

She replied with an okay as she went to go and find Watson. He was talking to Sally.

"You know why he's here? He's not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. Weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what? One day just showing up won't be enough. One day we'll be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one who put it there." Sally snapped. Céline walked up. "Perhaps it will be his girlfriend's body?" Céline sent Sally a look before turning her attention to Watson.

"Doctor are you ready?" She asked. Watson nodded, glad he didn't have to continue this conversation with Sally. The two took off toward the main road to hail a cab but before they could hail one a familiar black limousine pulled up. Céline frowned. "It's going to be a long night." She spoke.

"Sorry?" Watson asked, looking from her to the car. A large security man got out and opened the door for them.

"Get in the car, Miss. Brown, Doctor Watson." He spoke. Céline got in and Watson followed her. She seemed really annoyed the entire ride. There was a woman sitting in the back next to Watson. Céline got her phone out and texted Sherlock.

 _will be late, it's Mycroft._

Sherlock replied immediately.

 _come quickly afterword._

"What's your name then?" Watson asked the woman sitting beside him. She continued typing on her phone and didn't look at him. Céline watched their interaction.

"Anthea." The woman replied after giving the question some thought.

"Is that your real name?" Watson asked again. She gave him a look of annoyance.

"No." She replied again.

"I'm John." Watson introduced himself.

"Yes, I know." The woman flatly spoke.

"Any point in asking where I'm going?" Watson asked,

"None at all, John." She replied. Watson looked at Céline with a confused glance and Céline just shrugged.

"This is just some dramatics." She spoke, annoyed. When she and Sherlock met a few years ago Mycroft had done the same thing to her. He would drop by to see her or pick her up like this every couple of months, so it was usual for her. The two were dropped off in an empty parking garage. They got out of the car and Céline saw Mycroft waiting for them, there were two seats in front of him.

"Have a seat, Dr. Watson, Céline," Mycroft spoke as they walked up. Watson looked to Céline again, he reasoned that her demeanor meant they weren't in danger.

"You know Mycroft. Last time we did this you made me give you my number. The one for my phone." Céline snapped, crossing her arms. "One that you can call me on."

"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet," Mycroft replied. Céline rolled her eyes.

"You know I just tell him when you do this? Not great for being discreet." Céline quickly retorted. Mycroft ignored her and looked behind her at Watson.

"Your leg must be hurting, sit down." Mycroft encouraged. Watson was annoyed at how the man spoke to Céline, and he was annoyed at how they took them both out of the blue like this. "You don't seem very afraid," Mycroft observed.

"You don't seem very frightening." Watson quickly snapped back. Céline smirked.

"Ah, yes, the bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think. What is your connection with Sherlock Holmes?" Mycroft asked. Watson gave Céline a confused look before shaking his head.

"I don't have one. I barely know him. I met him yesterday." Watson answered. Mycroft chuckled.

"And since yesterday you've moved in with him, and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" Mycroft sarcastically replied.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"An interested party," Mycroft responded.

"Interested in Sherlock? Why? I'm guessing you're not friends" Watson observed. Céline kept quiet.

"You've met him. How many friends do you imagine he has other than this lady here?" Mycroft responded. "I'm the closest thing Sherlock Holmes is capable of having to a friend."

"And what's that?" Céline asked, laughing at how dramatic Mycroft was being.

"An enemy." Mycroft snapped at her.

"An enemy?" Watson asked, looking at Céline again in confusion.

"In his mind, certainly. If you asked him he'd probably say his arch enemy. He does love to be dramatic." Mycroft observed. Céline laughed at him, Mycroft perked an eyebrow at her.

"Well thank God you're not the slightest bit dramatic." She sarcastically retorted. Céline and Watson's phones both beeped. They were added to a group chat with Sherlock. They both checked their phones then exchanged a glance.

 _Baker Street. Come at once if convenient._

"I hope I'm not distracting either of you," Mycroft spoke to both of them.

"Not distracting me at all, no," Watson responded, putting his phone away. Céline stayed quiet.

"Dr. Watson, do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?" Mycroft asked.

"Far as I remember, and I could be wrong, but I think that's none of your business," Watson responded. Céline looked from Watson to Mycroft to see his response.

"It could be?" Mycroft suggested.

"It really couldn't." Watson insisted.

"If you do move into Baker Street, I would be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money, on a regular basis, to ... ease your way." Mycroft offered, he gave Céline a warning glare. She had turned down the offer when she and Mycroft met.

"In exchange for what?" Watson asked, confused.

"Information. Nothing indiscreet, nothing you'd feel uncomfortable with. Just ... tell me what he's up to." Mycroft explained. Watson frowned.

"Why?" He asked.

"I worry about him. Constantly." Mycroft further explained.

"That's really nice of you," Céline spoke up. Mycroft sent her a glare and turned back to Watson.

"But I would prefer, for various reasons, that my concern went ... unmentioned. We have what you might call, a difficult relationship." Mycroft began. Watson and Céline's phones both went off again. She looked at it.

 _If inconvenient come anyway._

"No." Watson suddenly answered.

"I haven't mentioned a figure." Mycroft quickly replied, annoyed.

"Don't bother." Watson snapped.

"You're very loyal, very quickly." Mycroft began, smirking and eyeing Watson.

"No, I'm not. I'm just not interested." Watson snapped again. Mycroft pulled out a notebook from his suit jacket pocket.

"Trust issues, it says here," Mycroft observed. Watson glared at him and looked at the notebook.

"What is that?" He asked. Mycroft ignored his question.

"Can it be you've decided to trust Sherlock Holmes? Of all people?" Mycroft asked. Céline just watched the two men as they spoke.

"Who says I trust him?" Watson asked.

"You don't seem the kind to make friends easily," Mycroft observed. Watson went to Céline and grabbed her arm to go. His back towards Mycroft.

"Are we done?" He asked.

"You tell me." Mycroft snapped. Watson and Céline exchanged glances and they both nodded, taking off back toward the limo.

"I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him. But I can see from your left hand, that isn't going to happen." Mycroft called after them. Céline felt Watson stop dead in his tracks and he turned back to face Mycroft.

"My what?" Watson asked, getting angry.

"Most people blunder around this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. But when you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield. You've seen it already, haven't you?" Mycroft chuckled.

"What's wrong with my hand?" Watson asked again. Céline set her hand on his shoulder to hold him back.

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand. Your therapist thinks it's post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by memories of your military service…" Mycroft read from the notebook. Watson pulled away from Céline and took an aggressive step toward Mycroft.

"Who the hell are you, and how do you know that?" Watson growled. Mycroft snapped the notebook shut.

"Sack her, she's got it the wrong way round. You're under stress right now, but your hand is perfectly steady. You're not haunted by the war, Dr. Watson…you miss it." He spoke as he put the notebook away. "Welcome back."

"Let's go," Céline told Watson, he nodded and followed her back to the limo.

"Time to choose a side, Dr. Watson," Mycroft shouted as Watson and Céline got back into the limo.

"Address?" The woman asked them.

"221b Baker Street," Céline replied. Watson cut in as the limo driver pulled out of the parking garage.

"I need to stop off somewhere first," Watson spoke.


	3. A Study In Pink 3

Watson stopped off to grab his gun and once they made it back to 221b Baker Street, Céline received a text from Lestrade.

 _We are meeting at the corner 24-hour coffee shop near Baker Street in twenty minutes._

Before Watson went inside he watched her read her message.

"Watson, could you please tell Sherlock I had to leave? Lestrade called me for a meeting." Céline asked. Watson nodded.

"Of course, I can tell him." He replied. She thanked him and put the location into her maps. It was a 10-minute walk away. She took off down the street. Halfway through the walk, she heard her ringtone for Sherlock.

 _Come by when you finish up._

She replied as she turned onto to the street with the coffee shop. As she turned the corner she saw Lestrade, Anderson, and Sally exiting the car and also walking inside. Lestrade walked over to greet her but Sally and Anderson just sent her dirty looks and went inside.

"We're going to go over everything from the crime scene, then we are going to discuss…something Sally and Anderson suggested." Lestrade explained. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Sorry that we couldn't spend time doing something else after hours." Céline blushed.

"Maybe after the case is over we can?" She suggested. Lestrade smiled.

"I would like that very much." He replied.

* * *

About an hour and a half later, Céline was begrudgingly accompanying Sally, Lestrade, Anderson and the drug unit to Sherlock's apartment under the guise of a drugs bust. On the way to Baker Street Céline texted Sherlock.

 _Drugs bust._

A few minutes into the search Sherlock arrived with Watson in tow. Céline refused to participate in the search and was just standing with Miss. Hudson to keep her calm.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock snapped at Lestrade as he rushed in. Lestrade was lounging in the recliner by the fireplace.

"Well I knew you'd find the case, I'm not stupid." Lestrade snapped back.

"You can't just break into my flat!" Sherlock argued with him.

"You can't withhold evidence, and I didn't break into your flat," Lestrade spoke as he stood.

"Well, what do you call this?" Sherlock spoke, getting angry.

"A drugs bust," Lestrade answered. Sherlock crossed his arms and Watson began laughing.

"Oh, come on, seriously? This guy, a junkie? Have you met him?" Watson asked, dumbfounded.

"John…" Sherlock began.

"Pretty sure, you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational…" Watson pressed. Sherlock placed his hand on his chest.

"John, you probably want to shut up now…" He growled. Watson's smile fell and he looked from Sherlock to Lestrade.

"You?" Watson asked, sounding both amused and upset.

"Shut up!" Sherlock snapped at Watson, he turned and looked at Lestrade. "I'm not your sniffer dog."

"No! Anderson's my sniffer dog." Lestrade replied. Sherlock turned to look where Lestrade gestured. Anderson was searching in the kitchen and gave Sherlock a wave.

"What's he doing here? On a drugs bust?" Sherlock asked, both offended and annoyed.

"Oh, I volunteered." Anderson sneered.

"They all did. They're not strictly speaking on the drugs squad, but they're very keen." Lestrade spoke to Sherlock. Céline rolled her eyes. Sally walked out of the kitchen.

"Are these human eyes?" She asked, looking at a beaker that was full of them. Sherlock frowned.

"Put them back." He snapped.

"They were in the microwave," Sally argued. Sherlock went over and snatched the beaker, putting it back.

"It's an experiment." He snapped. As he came out of the kitchen he gave Céline an annoyed look. Sherlock went and stood beside her.

"Keep looking, guys." Lestrade encouraged the group searching. He turned his attention to Sherlock. "Or you could start helping me properly, and I'll stand them down."

"This is childish." Sherlock responded.

"I'm dealing with a child." Lestrade quickly retorted back, not missing a beat. "Sherlock, this is our case! I'm letting you in, but you don't go off on your own - clear?"

"What, so you set up a pretend drugs bust, to bully me?" Sherlock spoke, disgusted.

"Stops being pretend if they find anything." Lestrade retorted under his breath.

"I'm clean," Sherlock responded, rolling his eyes.

"Is your flat? All of it?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock got into his face.

"I don't even smoke!" He argued, pulling up his sleeve to reveal three nicotine patches. Lestrade did the same and revealed that he was also wearing one.

"Neither do I! So let's work together…We've found Rachel." Lestrade changed the subject. Sherlock suddenly seemed more interested.

"Who is she?" Sherlock asked.

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter," Lestrade responded. Sherlock's face curled up in confusion.

"Her daughter. Why would she write her daughter's name, why?" He trailed off, thinking to himself.

"Never mind that, we found the case. According to someone the murderer has the case and here it is, in the hands of our favorite psychopath." Anderson suddenly cut in. Sherlock gave Céline another annoyed look before turning back to look at Anderson.

"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson. I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research!" Sherlock replied before turning to Lestrade. "You need to bring Rachel in, you need to question her. I need to question her…" He began

"She's dead." Lestrade cut him off.

"Excellent! How? When? Is there a connection? There has to be!" Sherlock excitedly spoke, his mind racing.

"I doubt it since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter fourteen years ago." Lestrade responded. This confused Sherlock further.

"No. No, that's not right. Why would she do that?" He asked, looking to Céline.

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments. Yeah, sociopath, seeing it now." Anderson retorted. Sherlock kept his back to him.

"She didn't think about her daughter, she scratched her name on the floor. She was dying, it took effort, it would've hurt - she was trying to tell us something!" Sherlock snapped as he thought. Watson cut in.

"You said the victims all took the poison themselves. Somehow he makes them take it. Maybe he ... I dunno, talks to them. Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow…" Watson suggested. Sherlock turned back toward him

"Oh, but that was ages ago - why would she still be upset?" Sherlock saw Watson cringe as he spoke. Sherlock quickly looked back and saw Céline had a cringe on her face as well.

"Not good?" Sherlock asked her. Céline shook her head, no.

"Bit not good, yeah," Watson added. Sherlock walked up to Céline.

"Yes, but listen! Céline, you're clever, if you were dying, if you'd been murdered, in your very last seconds, what would you say…" He asked her.

"I don't want to die. Please let me live." Céline frowned. She had experienced a near-death experience the night her father murdered her mother. Watson watched her closely then looked to Sherlock for his response.

"Céline, really?" Sherlock spoke, not convinced. He had no idea what happened to her when she was a child. No one in the room did. "Really imagine it."

"I don't have to." Céline calmly responded. Sherlock's face curled up in confusion but he put it into the back of his head. He turned to Watson.

"Watson?" He asked. "What would you say?"

"Please God let me live," Watson replied. Watson shared an understanding look with Céline. Sherlock walked over.

"Really, use your imagination." Sherlock retorted again, frowning. Watson shook his head.

"I don't have to," Watson replied. Suddenly, there was a ring on the doorbell and Miss. Hudson went to check and see who was ringing.

"Yes, but if you were clever if you were very clever... Jennifer Wilson, running all those lovers. She was clever, and she's telling us something!" Sherlock argued with Watson. Miss. Hudson quickly came back up the stairs.

"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock." She asked. Sherlock waved his hand passively.

"I didn't order a taxi, go away." Sherlock dismissively responded. Miss. Hudson frowned and went down to speak to the driver. Sherlock continued pacing. Lestrade shouted for everyone to keep looking again and suddenly Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks.

"Shut up! Everybody shut up, I'm thinking, don't move, don't breathe, Anderson, face the other way, you're putting me off!" Sherlock shouted. Everyone stopped to look at him and Lestrade shared a look with Céline.

"What, my face is?" Anderson asked.

"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back." Lestrade ordered.

"For God's sake!" Anderson shouted.

"Your back, now, please!" Lestrade shouted back. Anderson turned around, his face curing up in anger. Sherlock continued to pace back and forth. Miss. Hudson returned again.

"What about your taxi?" Miss. Hudson innocently asked.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock shouted before understanding. There was a moment of silence and he began to laugh. "Oh, she was clever. Clever, yes, I love her! She's cleverer than you lot dead! Do you see? Do you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted in on him. When she got out that car, she knew she was going to her death, she left the phone to lead us to her killer!" Sherlock explained. Mrs. Hudson gave Céline a frustrated glance and left back downstairs to speak with the taxi driver.

"But how?" Lestrade asked. Céline wandered out to the stairs and peeked down. She faintly heard Mrs. Hudson arguing with a man at the door. She frowned but went back into the room once she heard Miss. Hudson shut the door. Sherlock was at the computer and they were putting in "Rachel" as the password for the victim's smartphone account.

"So we can read her emails, so what?" Anderson sarcastically snapped.

"Don't talk out loud, Anderson, you lower the IQ of the whole street. We can do more than read her emails - it's a smartphone, it's got GPS. And if you lose it…" As Sherlock spoke he selected the "find my MePhone" option and a map began to load. "She's leading us right to the man who killed her."

"Unless he got rid of it." Anderson began.

"We know he didn't." Watson replied. Céline saw Mrs. Hudson return again.

"Sherlock, dear this taxi driver!" She pressed again. Céline frowned, she didn't realize taxi drivers were this pushy.

"Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" Sherlock snapped. The computer suddenly rang and everyone rushed over.

"Get some vehicles ready, get a helicopter, we need to move fast - that phone battery won't last forever," Sherlock spoke as Watson looked at the laptop.

"Sherlock…" Watson asked, sounding upset.

"Where is it, where, quickly!" Sherlock knelt beside Watson, looking at the screen. Céline saw Sherlock's face drop and he looked back at her with another annoyed look.

"What?" Lestrade asked, crossing his arms.

"It's here. It's in 221 Baker Street." Watson read. Everyone took a deep breath.

"But it can't be. How can it be here? How?" Sherlock asked, directing the question toward Céline. Céline furrowed her brow as she thought for a moment. Suddenly she got a strange feeling about the taxi driver outside. She thought about the witness accounts all mentioning a taxi and frowned.

"Could it be that…" She thought to herself as she and Sherlock stared at each other.

"Maybe it was in the case when you brought it back - fell out somewhere," Lestrade suggested. Sherlock frowned, breaking his eye contact with Céline too look at Lestrade.

"And I didn't notice. Me? I didn't notice." Sherlock argued.

"Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here - belonged to the victim…" Lestrade shouted. Sherlock began to pace again, going through all the case details.

"Who do we trust, even if don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?" Sherlock thought to himself. He looked at Céline again and they both stared at each other as they both thought and suddenly Sherlock's phone rang. He and Céline shared a confused glance before he looked down at it. He looked as if he was in a daze.

 _Come with me._

Sherlock stared at the text for a long moment before looking up at Céline and heading for the door. Lestrade saw him leaving.

"Where are you going?" Watson called.

"Nowhere. Fresh air, just popping out for a moment." Sherlock replied.

"Go with him." Lestrade ordered Céline. Céline nodded and followed him out. As they went downstairs Sherlock passed her his phone and she read the text and frowned, handing his phone back.


	4. A Study In Pink 4

Sherlock and Céline made it outside and Céline tied her trench coat closed. Sherlock put on his scarf. An older, heavy-set man was leaning against a taxi.

"Taxi for Sherlock Holmes." The taxi driver spoke. His eyes wandered over to Céline and he smiled, getting excited. He thought to himself that he would have two more victims after this evening. "Well…Sherlock Holmes and friend."

"I didn't order a taxi," Sherlock replied. He made sure to put himself in front of Céline to keep her away from the danger.

"That doesn't mean you don't need one." The man quickly responded. Sherlock and Céline both frowned.

"You're the cabbie, the one who stopped outside Northumberland Street. It was you, not your passenger." Sherlock observed. The Taxi Driver chuckled to himself. He seemed equal part's nervous and annoyed.

"You see, no one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like we're invisible. Just the back of a head. A proper advantage for a serial killer." The Taxi Driver calmly spoke.

"Is this a confession?" Sherlock asked. The Taxi Driver gave Céline a quick glance, he noticed her badge hanging from her neck.

"Oh, yes. And I'll tell you what else if you let her arrest me now, I won't run, I'll sit quiet and they can take me down. I promise." The Taxi Driver continued.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"Because you're not going to do that." The Taxi Driver observed,

"Am I not?" Sherlock asked, amused.

"I didn't kill those four people, Mr. Holmes. I spoke to them, and they killed themselves. Let her arrest me now, and I promise you this, I will never tell you what I said." The Taxi Driver spoke.

"No one else will die though. I believe they call that a result." Sherlock argued.

"And you won't ever understand how those four people died. Which result do you care about?" The Taxi Driver spoke. Céline looked at him, he gave her an agonized glance. Looking from Céline to the Taxi Driver. She knew he didn't want her to arrest him and sigh.

"If we want to understand what would we do?" She asked, stepping beside Sherlock, taking his arm. The Taxi Driver smiled.

"Let me take you both for a ride." He answered. Sherlock scoffed.

"So you can kill us too?" Sherlock retorted.

"I'm not going to kill either of you, Mr. Holmes. I'm going to talk to you. And you're both going to kill yourselves." The Taxi Driver innocently spoke, going and getting into his cab. Sherlock led Céline to the cab and they both got in.

* * *

"He just got in a cab. Sherlock, him and Céline. They and just drove off in a cab!" Watson snapped in disbelief, watching them from the window.

"I told you. He does that." Sally snapped. Lestrade frowned and texted Céline.

"At least Céline's going with him. He can't get too far." Lestrade replied, rubbing his temples. Watson called the victims phone again. There was no answer.

"I'm phoning the phone, it's ringing out," Watson spoke.

"If it's ringing, it's not here," Lestrade observed.

"I'll try the search again." Watson quickly hit the 'update location' button on the computer.

"Does it matter? Does any of it?" Sally snapped, getting in Lestrade's face. "He's just a lunatic, and he'll always let you down. And you're wasting your time. All our time." Lestrade thought for a moment, he checked his phone to see if he had a message back from Céline, when he saw he didn't he looked around.

"Okay, everyone….we're done here" Lestrade shouted, everyone began to pack up the search party.

* * *

Sherlock and Céline sat silently in the car. She heard her phone when she had received the text from Lestrade but ignored it given the circumstances.

"How did you find me?" Sherlock asked calmly.

"Oh, I recognized you, as soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Sherlock Holmes. I was warned about you. I've been on your website too, brilliant stuff, loved it." The Taxi Driver spoke. Sherlock and Céline shared a look of confusion in their peripherals. The first thing they thought about was Mycroft but this didn't sound like Mycroft's doing.

"Who would warn you about me?" Sherlock asked. The Taxi Driver looked at both of them in the rear view mirror.

"There's someone out there who's noticed you." He began. Sherlock was looking around the cab and taking note of things he saw.

"Who?" Sherlock asked as he looked around. The Taxi Driver didn't reply. "Who would notice me?" Sherlock asked.

"You're too modest, Mr. Holmes." The Taxi Driver laughed. He looked over to Céline. "Isn't he modest?"

"I'm really not." Sherlock snapped before Céline could answer.

"You've got yourself a fan!" The Taxi Driver spoke, in almost a teasing manner.

"Tell me more." Sherlock pressed.

"That's all your going to know…in this lifetime." The Taxi Driver spoke. The statement set Céline's brain off for a moment. Her father told her mother that same thing the night he killed her. So many past memories that she worked hard to suppress down came rushing back.

As Sherlock looked around the cab he saw Céline had turned sheet white. He frowned a bit and as subtly as he could he snuck his hand over and took her hand, entwining their fingers. He squeezed her hand protectively. She squeezed it back and they sat like that, not looking at each other until they reached their destination. The Taxi Driver didn't notice.

* * *

As everyone continued packing up Lestrade wandered over to Watson. "Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?" Lestrade asked, frustrated.

"You know him better than I do." Watson shrugged, the computer was still loading. Lestrade quickly denied the statement.

"I've known him five years, and no I don't." Lestrade explained

"Then why do you put up with him?" Watson asked. Everyone was finishing up and leaving.

"Because I'm bloody desperate, that's why!" Lestrade spoke as he followed everyone else out. He hesitated at the door for a moment "And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think, one day, if we're very, very lucky he might even be a good one."

Once Lestrade left Watson heard a ring and saw the phone on the move. He gasped and quickly went to the door to grab his jacket.

* * *

Sherlock, Céline, and the Taxi Driver got out of the car. Sherlock had made Céline feel a lot better. She managed to shake off the emotions and the memories for the current moment.

"Where are we?" Sherlock asked, looking around.

"You know exactly where we are, you know every street in London." The Taxi Driver smugly responded. Sherlock shot him a look.

"Roland-Kerr further education college. Why here?" Sherlock asked. The Taxi Driver smiled at him and Céline.

"It's open, the cleaners are in. The thing is about being a cabbie, you always know a quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out." The Taxi Driver smugly spoke again. Sherlock perked an eyebrow.

"And you just walk your victims in? How?" He asked. The Taxi Driver pulled out a gun. Céline and Sherlock both immediately realized it was fake.

"Oh, dull!" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It gets better, don't worry." The Taxi Driver replied.

"You can't make people kill themselves at gunpoint," Sherlock growled, clearly very disappointed.

"Oh, I don't. It's much better than that." The Taxi Driver smiled, he put his gun away. "Don't need this with you two. 'Cos you'll follow me." He spoke as he turned toward the building and began walking in. Céline took a step to follow but Sherlock stopped her. He brought his face close to hers to keep his words confidential.

"Keep hold of my arm, just in case..." Sherlock whispered to Céline. She nodded and took hold of the inside of his elbow where his arm bent.

The two followed the Taxi Driver inside and to a back science classroom. The Taxi Driver gestured for both of them to sit across from him at one of the group tables. They took a seat. Céline held onto Sherlock. As the group got settled Sherlock focused in on the Taxi Driver.

"Bit of a risk, wasn't it? You took me away under the noses of about half a dozen policemen, policemen that work with Céline. They're not that stupid. And Mrs. Hudson will remember you." Sherlock spoke. Céline also focused in on the Taxi Driver.

"Call that a risk? Nah. This is a risk." As the Taxi Driver spoke to Sherlock he retrieved a pill bottle from his pocket. He set it down right in the middle of the table. Céline zoned in on it. Sherlock frowned and gave the bottle a quick glance before glaring at the Taxi Driver. "Oh, I like this bit, you don't get it yet, do you? But you're about to. I just have to do this."

Once the Taxi Driver finished speaking he set an identical pill bottle right beside the previous one. Sherlock focused in on the two bottles. Céline was even more confused. The Taxi Driver smiled and giggled, he looked from Céline to Sherlock and took delight in their confusion. He pulled out a third bottle for Céline to take and set it besides the other two.

"Weren't expecting that, were you? Oh, you are gonna love this." The Taxi Driver excitedly spoke. Céline slightly squeezed Sherlock's arm.

"Love what?" Sherlock snapped, he was getting frustrated.

"Oh, Sherlock Holmes! Look at you. Here in the flesh. That website of yours! Your fan told me about it." The Taxi Driver spoke up, changing the subject. Sherlock didn't say anything, he just looked dead into the eyes of the Taxi Driver, waiting for him to continue. "You are brilliant, you are a proper genius. The Science Of Deduction...That's proper thinking. Now between you and me, sitting here, why can't people think! Doesn't it drive you mad? Why can't people just think?"

"Oh, I see. So you're a proper genius too." Sherlock sarcastically spoke. The Taxi Driver took pride in his words.

"Don't look it, do I? Funny little man, driving a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are, it will be the last thing you both ever know." The Taxi Driver spoke. Out of the corner of her eye, Céline could see Sherlock look down to the pills.

"Okay, three bottles. Explain." Sherlock snapped.

"There's a good bottle and there's a bad bottle. In this case, there are two bad bottles. Take a pill from the good bottle, you live. Take a pill from the bad bottle, you die." He explained.

"The bottles are, of course, identical," Sherlock observed.

"In every way." The Taxi Driver answered.

"And you know which is?" Sherlock asked.

"Course I know." The Taxi Driver replied.

"But we don't," Sherlock spoke, gesturing to himself and Céline.

"Wouldn't be a game if you knew. You're the one who chooses." The Taxi Driver matter-of-factly replied.

"Why should I? I've got nothing to go on. What's in it for me?" Sherlock snapped.

"I haven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottles you both choose, I take a pill from the final. And then together, we take our medicine." The Taxi Driver chuckled. Céline felt her mouth going dry. Sherlock was surprised. "I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whichever pill you don't. Didn't expect that, did you, Mr. Holmes?"

"So, this is what you did? You gave them all a choice?" Céline asked, speaking up.

"Yes, and now I'm giving it to you. Take a moment. Get yourself together. I want your best game." The Taxi Driver spoke. Sherlock didn't move to play.

"That isn't a game, it's chance." Sherlock frowned.

"I've played four times. I'm alive. It's not chance, Mr. Holmes. It's chess. It's a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this…" As the Taxi Driver spoke he slid one of the bottles to Sherlock. "Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one. You've got to admit, as serial killers go, I'm verging on nice." The Taxi Driver spoke, visibly delighted.

* * *

Watson was in a taxi following the directions the victim's phone took him. He kept calling Scotland Yard on his own phone trying to get ahold of Lestrade.

"No, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I need to speak to him, it's important, it's an emergency." Watson spoke on the phone. He saw the street coming up and shouted to the driver. "Left here, left!"

* * *

"Are you ready yet, Mr. Holmes? Ready to play? Or shall I have your lady friend pick first." The Taxi Driver asked after a long moment of silence.

"Play what? It's nothing but chance." Sherlock snapped.

"You're not playing the numbers, you're playing me. Did I give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it bluff, double-bluff, triple- bluff?" The Taxi Driver asked, amused.

"It's still chance," Sherlock repeated.

"Four people, in a row. It's not chance." The Taxi Driver argued. Céline looked between the two men as they spoke. "It's genius. I know how people think. I know how people think. I can see it all like a map in my head. Everyone's so stupid. Even you." Céline felt Sherlock twitch at the Taxi Driver's words. She squeezed his arm again, trying to keep him focused.

"Of course, maybe God just loves me." The Taxi Driver shrugged. Sherlock leaned in.

"Either way, you're wasted as a cabbie. You risked your life four times, just to kill strangers? Why?" Sherlock asked. The Taxi Driver shook his head and pointed toward the bottles.

"Time to play." The Taxi Driver spoke. Céline quickly picked up a nervous twitch in the Taxi Driver's voice.

"I am playing. This is my go. There's shaving foam behind your ear, and no one's pointed it to you. There are traces where it's happened before, so clearly live alone, there's no one, only you. But, you have photographs of your children. The children's mother has been cut out the photograph, if she'd died, she'd still be there. The photograph is old, but the frame is new. You think of your children, but you don't get to see them. Estranged father, she took the kids, but you still love them, and it still hurts." Sherlock spoke. The Taxi Driver frowned before he could speak Sherlock continued.

"Oh, but there's more! Your clothes are freshly laundered, but everything you're wearing is at least three years old. Keeping up appearances, but not planning ahead. And here you are, on a kamikaze murder spree, what's that about? Three years ago, is that when they told you? That you're a dead man walking?" Sherlock asked. Céline felt her heart stop. The Taxi Driver looked upset.

"You are good." He spoke under his breath. He tapped the side of his head. "Aneurysm, right in here. Any breath could be my last."

"So that's why? Because you're dying, you've just murdered four people?" Céline snapped, visibly disgusted. Sherlock eagerly looked at The Taxi Driver to see his response to Céline's statement.

"I've outlived four people. That's the most fun you can have, with an aneurysm." The Taxi Driver snapped back at Céline.

* * *

As they spoke Watson made it. He left a message for Lestrade and ran around looking for them.

"Sherlock!? Céline!?" Watson shouted down the halls.

* * *

"No. No, there's something else. You haven't killed four people because you're bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow, this is about your children." Sherlock observed. The Taxi Driver took a deep breath and chuckled a bit. "But how?"

"When I die, they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs…" The Taxi Driver began.

"Or serial killing." Sherlock snapped, cutting him off.

"You'd be surprised." The Taxi Driver quickly corrected. Sherlock turned his head in confusion.

"Surprise me." Sherlock calmly spoke.

"I have a sponsor." The Taxi Driver explained. "For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, they better off they'll be. You see? Nicer than you think."

"And what kind of sick bastard would sponsor a serial killer?" Céline asked.

"One who'd be a fan of Sherlock Holmes." The Taxi Driver answered. Céline frowned and the Taxi Driver looked over to Sherlock.

"You're not the only person who enjoys a good murder. There's someone else out there, just like you. Except you're just a man. And he's so much more." The Taxi Driver hissed. "Now. Enough chatter. It's time to choose."

"What if I don't take either? I could walk away from this table right now." Sherlock spoke. The Taxi Driver took out his gun and pointed it at Céline.

"You can take a chance, or I can shoot your lady friend here in the head." The Taxi Driver spoke.

"Shoot me." Céline snapped. The Taxi Driver didn't listen to her. He and Sherlock were locked in on each other, waiting for each other to move.

"She said she will have the gun please," Sherlock spoke up. The Taxi Driver laughed.

"Are you sure? You're just going to watch me splatter the guts of your lady friend all over this counter?" The Taxi Driver asked.

"The gun." Céline snapped again. The Taxi Driver turned his attention back to her and pulled the trigger. Céline didn't jump, a small flame was lit at the end of the gun. Céline rolled her eyes.

"We both know a real gun when we see one," Sherlock explained. He pushed his chair back and stood up, Céline stood with him. "This has been most interesting. I look forward to your court case." Céline walked alongside Sherlock to the door but before they reached it she heard the Taxi Driver one last time.

"Before you go, did you figure it out? Which one's the good bottle?" The Taxi Driver asked. Céline frowned and tried to pull at his arm but Sherlock turned back toward him.

"Of course. Childs play." He snapped.

"Which one, then? Which one would you have taken? Just so I know if I could have beaten you…" The Taxi Driver spoke. Sherlock pulled away from Céline and walked over to the table. She frowned and watched as he walked over and plucked one of the bottles off the table. "Oh! Interesting!" As he spoke he reached for another bottle and uncapped it, removing a pill.

"What do you think? Shall we?" The Taxi Driver asked. Sherlock uncapped his own bottle, removing the pill. "Really, what do you think? Can you beat me? Are you clever enough? Are you really sure? Bet your life?"

"Sherlock. Stop this." Céline snapped, walking over to him and pulling his arm to leave. He ignored her and raised the pill to the light.

"You get bored, I know you do, a man like you, so clever. But what's the point in being clever if you can't prove it. But this is what you're really addicted to, isn't it? This is the only fix that works. You'll do anything, anything at all, not to be bored." The Taxi Driver continued. Céline tried pulling at him again. Watson saw them from a room across the courtyard.

"SHERLOCK!" She shouted. Sherlock pushed her away, his hand was trembling. He brought the pill to his mouth.

"You're not bored now, are you? And isn't it good?" The Taxi Driver continued, right before Sherlock took the pill and as Céline tried to fight it off of him a gunshot went off, and the window suddenly shattered.

The second Sherlock heard the gunshot he snapped out of it and tackled Céline to the ground, covering her head just in case there was more gunfire. The two heard the Taxi Driver cry out in pain. After few moments there were no more gunshots and Sherlock scrambled to his feet, leaving Céline and rushing over to the Taxi Driver.

"Was I right? I was, wasn't I? Did I get it right?" He shouted.

Céline struggled to get to all fours onto her hands and knees. The gunshot had set her off again. She never carried a gun and kept to investigations for this reason. She suddenly felt as if she was going to puke. Her body began hyperventilating. She could barely hear Sherlock as he and the man argued. Suddenly the man cried out in pain and Céline lost her balance, falling down to one elbow on the ground.

"Moriarty!" She heard the Taxi Driver shout in pain. Sherlock frowned and left the Taxi Driver there. He returned to leave with Céline but panicked a bit when he saw her on the floor. He rushed to her side.

"Céline, what's wrong?" Sherlock asked. He laid a hand on her back but she quickly jumped away from his touch, looking at him in fear. He saw she was having an anxiety attack. "Céline it's just me, breathe." He demonstrated deep breaths and she tried to follow suit. Her hands were shaking violently and her vision began to get blurry. She shook her head to try and shake it off, but it just made her dizzier and she grimaced.

"No, Céline." Sherlock got close to her and took her shoulders, steadying her body. "Focus on me. Focus on me and breathe." He held her like that until she stopped shaking. Céline brought her hand to her chest, it felt pained from the anxiety attack. Her head was also pounding.

"I'm sorry." She frowned, feeling upset. "I'm so sorry." Sherlock shook his head and helped her to her feet.

"It's fine." He replied, helping her to the door.


	5. A Study In Pink 5

Happy New Year puddin's! Thank you all so much for the love on this story. I am so excited about where this story is going and the stories I have planned for the New Year! I'm abroad near London until May but I love it so much that I might just stay an extra month during summer. It's been really inspiring me! Stay safe and enjoy! xoxo

* * *

Sherlock and Céline both sat at the back of the ambulance with matching orange blankets around their shoulders. Sherlock was complaining about the blanket. Watson stood with them, waiting around so they could all leave together. Lestrade came by to check on them.

"Why do I have this blanket? They keep putting a blanket on me." Sherlock frowned in protest.

"It's for shock," Lestrade answered.

"I'm not in shock!" Sherlock argued again. Céline giggled a bit with Watson at how pouty Sherlock was being.

"Yeah, but some of the guys want to take photographs." Lestrade honestly spoke. Sherlock frowned.

"Lestrade has there been any sign of the shooter?" Céline asked.

"Cleared off by the time we got here. A guy like that would've had enemies, I suppose. One of them could've been following him. But we've got nothing to go on." Lestrade shrugged.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that…" Sherlock began. Lestrade rolled his eyes but pulled out a notebook. "The bullet they just dug out the wall was from a handgun. A kill shot over that distance from that kind of weapon, that's a crack shot you're looking for. But not just a marksman, a fighter. His hand couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though. So, strong moral principles. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service and nerves of steel…" Céline and Sherlock both looked straight at Watson as Sherlock spoke. Watson gave them both a sheepish smile. Lestrade continued to scribble in his notebook. Sherlock shook his head.

"Actually, you know what, ignore me." Sherlock said. Lestrade perked up in shock.

"I'm sorry?" Lestrade asked.

"Ignore all that. It's the shock talking!" Sherlock stood up, he prepared to leave with Watson. Céline did the same.

"Where are you going?" Lestrade frowned.

"What, now? I'm in shock. Look, I've got a blanket." Sherlock sarcastically spoke with his blanket around his shoulders. Lestrade and Céline shared a glance. "And I did just catch a serial killer for you...more or less."

"Okay. We'll pull you in tomorrow, off you go." Lestrade spoke. Céline went to leave but Lestrade took her hand. "I'd like to have a private word first." He asked, leading her away. Sherlock frowned and watched them go as he waited by Watson.

"Lestrade?" Céline asked. He gently touched her arm as they stopped.

"Are you alright?" Lestade asked. Céline nodded. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I just need one night's sleep and I'll be fine." She tried to calm him. Lestrade nodded and cupped her cheek, running his thumb along it.

"Why don't you take the rest of the week? You can do all of your witness statement paperwork from home tomorrow. I can come by to pick it up…and to bring you some dinner perhaps? " He suggested, blushing a bit. Céline smiled and nodded.

Sherlock crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently as he watched them from afar, he suddenly was feeling very possessive over Céline. Watson watched Sherlock's reaction and was amused.

"I would really like that…Greg." Céline smiled and nodded. She was oblivious to two things. The first was Sherlock's feelings for her and the second was her own feelings for him. Céline only consciously saw them as light friends. The one man she had held some sort of feelings for was Lestrade. Lestrade smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

"I'll see you tomorrow night then, get some rest." He coaxed before heading off back into the crime scene. Céline waltzed back to Sherlock and Watson, her face was flushed and she was smiling. This made Sherlock more upset. As they walked toward the main road Watson spoke up.

"Sergeant Donovan explained everything. The pills, dreadful business, dreadful." Watson spoke. Céline and Sherlock both smirked and exchanged a knowing glance.

"Good shot." Sherlock whispered. Watson gave him and Céline a little smile.

"Are you alright?" Céline asked. Watson shrugged.

"Of course I'm all right." He sheepishly spoke.

"Are you sure, you have just killed a man?" Sherlock observed. Watson chuckled a bit.

"Yeah. True. But he wasn't a very nice man…" Watson trailed off. "And frankly, he was a bloody awful cabbie." Céline and Sherlock laughed a bit.

"You should've seen the route we took here." Sherlock retorted back.

"Sherlock, you panicked me, were you going to take that stupid pill?" Céline asked.

"Of course I wasn't. Playing for time. I knew Watson would show up." Sherlock smugly responded.

"No, you didn't. That's how you get your kicks, isn't it? Risking your life to prove you're clever." Watson spoke as he rolled his eyes.

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock protested.

"Because you're an idiot." Céline laughed, Watson laughed too. Sherlock blushed.

"I'm starving." Watson spoke up as they got to the street. Sherlock stepped in front of the group to lead them.

"There's a good Chinese, end of Baker Street, stays open 'til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the doorhandle…" Sherlock began, speaking mostly to Céline. He wanted to show her how much smarter he was than Lestrade. Céline was listening to him but Watson suddenly stopped both of them.

"Sherlock, that's him. That's the guy I was talking about…" Watson spoke. Sherlock frowned and they all watched Mycroft watching them from a parked car. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I know exactly who that is." Sherlock spoke as he and Mycroft both charged toward one another.

"So! Another case cracked. How very public spirited of you. Though that's never really ever your motivation, is it?" Mycroft asked as Céline and Watson walked up.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked him.

"As ever…I am concerned about you." Mycroft replied.

"Yes. I've been hearing all about your concern from Céline and Watson." Sherlock snapped.

"Always so aggressive. Does it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side." Mycroft pouted, crossing his arms. Sherlock thought about it jokingly for a moment.

"Oddly enough, no." Sherlock smugly spoke.

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us, it's simply childish. People will suffer. And you know how it always upset Mummy." Mycroft snapped. Watson was shocked.

"Wait, what?" He asked aloud. Sherlock ignored him. Céline just rubbed her eyes.

"I upset her? Me? It wasn't me who upset her, Mycroft!" Sherlock snapped, offended.

"No, sorry, wait, wait, mummy. Who's Mummy?" Watson asked, cutting in. Sherlock glared at Mycroft as he responded.

"Mother. Our Mother. This is my brother, Mycroft." Sherlock answered.

"He's your brother?" Watson asked again in disbelief. Sherlock looked confused.

"Of course he's my brother." Sherlock matter-of-factly responded.

"He's not...I dunno. Some kind of criminal mastermind?" Watson asked, a bit embarrassed. Céline laughed out loud and Mycroft gave her a look.

"Him? A criminal mastermind." She teased. Mycroft scoffed and blushed.

"Oh for goodness sake! I occupy a minor post in the British Government." Mycroft protested. Watson saw Sherlock and Céline roll their eyes at this.

"He is the British Government. When he's not too busy being the British Secret Service. And the CIA on a freelance basis. Good evening, Mycroft - try not to start a war before I get home, you know what it does to the traffic." Sherlock sarcastically retorted. He grabbed Céline's arm and pulled her away with him. Watson followed close behind.

"So. Chinese then." Watson spoke as he caught up. Sherlock nodded.

"I can always predict the fortune cookies." Sherlock triumphantly spoke to Céline.

"Sure." She responded, laughing.

"I can!" Sherlock protested, pouting a bit. Watson rolled his eyes.

"No, you can't." Watson argued too, laughing along with Céline.

"I nearly can. You did get shot though?" Sherlock frowned, changing the conversation.

"I'm sorry?" Watson asked.

"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound." Sherlock observed.

"Oh, yeah. In the shoulder." Watson explained.

"The shoulder. I thought so." Sherlock observed. Watson perked an eyebrow.

"No, you didn't." Watson argued.

"The left one." Sherlock quickly responded.

"Lucky guess." Watson laughed. Céline laughed too as she watched the men argue.

"I never guess." Sherlock flippantly replied. As they continued to walk Watson noticed that Sherlock seemed more excited than usual.

"What are you so happy about?" Watson asked.

"Moriarty." Sherlock replied.

"What's Moriarty?" Watson asked.

"I have absolutely no idea…" Sherlock trailed off as they reached the restaurant.

* * *

After they ate and returned to 221b Baker Street they dropped Watson off and Sherlock offered to walk Céline home. As they walked they didn't really speak. Céline noticed that Sherlock seemed a little nervous.

"What's wrong?" She asked. He blushed and put up his hands defensively.

"Nothing." He lied before shoving his hands into his pockets. Céline perked an eyebrow.

"Usually after a case, you can't stop talking." She teased. "You were so giddy at the resturaunt."

"Perhaps I want to enjoy the silence." He replied. She stopped walking and crossed her arms, giving him a knowing glance. "Fine. I wanted to ask something." He admitted.

"Ask away." She spoke, continuing to walk.

"I just wanted to know if you were going to entertain the thought of actually having an affair with Lestrade." Sherlock quickly asked. Céline laughed and turned bright red.

"Is it just that obvious to you or…" She began.

"Probably just me." Sherlock answered. Céline smiled and stuck her hands in her trench coat pockets.

"I haven't decided. He's coming over tomorrow for dinner, so I'll probably decide then." She answered. She saw Sherlock frown.

"I would strongly advise against it." He protested. She laughed.

"Why strongly?" Céline asked, amused. Sherlock thought for a moment, he had no reason to point out other than that he didnt want her to.

"Just trust me." He finally replied. Céline watched him as they walked. They reached her apartment and they both sat on the front steps to talk more, it was what they often did when he walked her home. "Are you feeling okay from the anxiety attack?" Sherlock asked, he had noticed that Céline was shaking a bit at the restaurant despite acting like everything was okay. Céline shrugged.

"I'll be alright." She replied. Sherlock watched her. He noticed that she didnt close her body language off from him so he decided to ask her more about it.

"May I ask something?" He began. Céline laughed.

"I still haven't decided." She teased. Sherlock blushed and shook his head.

"No, no, not about Lestrade." He replied sheepishly.

"I'm just teasing, of course, you can ask something." Céline answered.

"What caused the anxiety attack?" Sherlock asked. Céline sigh.

"It was the noise of the gunshot." She simply answered.

"But why?" Sherlock asked, pressing. She looked at him and debated telling him for a moment.

"I was 11." She began. "I came home from school, everything was normal. My parents didnt have the best relationship, so when I got home and heard them arguing it wasn't…strange. I went upstairs to change out of my uniform, and I heard my mum…" Céline trailed off, getting a bit emotional. Sherlock just watched her, he was prepared to wait until she was comfortable enough to keep telling him. "Uh…my mum, she just began screaming. I ran down and I saw them in the living room. My father was standing over her and I hid. He strangled her, killed her, right there on the living room floor. Then, he grabbed his gun from behind the books on the bookshelf in our living room and went looking for me. I tried to get out, but…" She kept the details of what her parents argued about brief.

"But…" Sherlock asked, setting his hand on her knee.

"He got me. He shot me once in the back of the leg. I was trying to crawl away and he stood over me. Before he shot me for the second time he said I wasn't even his kid." Céline explained, she looked over at Sherlock after explaining. His eyes were wide.

"I had no idea." He trailed off. He had noticed a scar she had on the back of her calf underneath her tights but assumed incorrectly it was an on the job injury. Céline saw him looking at her calf.

"He got me there and right here." She pointed to a spot on her chest, just above her heart. Sherlock couldn't see the scar under her dress because the collar was high, he suddenly understood why she wore such high collars. "He missed my heart by an inch. The neighbors heard the gunshots and called the police. He got life, and now he just sits around in Sherrinford." She watched Sherlock for a response but he didnt say anything.

"I would have thought Mycroft would have found out and told you." She teased, trying to lighten the mood. Sherlock took his hand away from her knee and she stood to go inside. Sherlock stood too and stepped down to the curb, watching as she rummaged around in her trench coat pocket. She took out a key and stepped down to the curb with him. "Here."

It was a key to her apartment. Sherlock took it and watched her, he liked how she looked in the moonlight.

"Thank you." He managed to reply. Céline kissed his cheek and went inside. Sherlock stood on the curb for a couple more moments. He smiled and looked at the key before leaving to 221b Baker Street.

When he got home it was quiet and everyone was asleep. Sherlock searched around for a ball of string and eventually found it. He cut an extra long strand off and threaded the key through it, placing it around his neck. He checked in the mirror with his shirt to make sure no-one could see it under his shirt and when he was satisfied with how the key hung around his neck he went to bed and thought about what Céline had told him about her father and mother.


	6. The Blind Banker 1

It was a few weeks later. Lestrade and Céline had begun dating in secret, much to Sherlock's dismay. Céline had been too over the moon to notice her friends strong dislike for the relationship. This particular evening Lestrade had taken Céline out to see a movie and was now walking Céline home. She had been hesitant to invite him inside to take their relationship a step further, she was nervous about it and wasn't sure why.

"So, I leave for the conference after tomorrow night." Lestrade began once they reached her doorstep, he cupped her cheek and she leaned into his hand, smiling.

"I'll miss you." She replied. Lestrade lingered for a moment and gave her a light kiss.

"You know, I don't have to say goodnight yet." He suggested. "I could spend the night…" Céline looked down at her feet and thought about it for a moment, she shook her head no.

"I'm sorry, Greg, I'm still not sure I'm ready," Céline explained. Lestrade nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. He kissed her goodnight and then left. Céline went inside and when she got to her door she noticed it was open. She rolled her eyes but was thankful that she didn't end up inviting Lestrade in.

"You let him kiss you?" Sherlock snapped, upset and grossed out as she walked into the apartment. She locked the door behind her.

"And you still didn't lock the door after coming in." Céline snapped back, taking her coat and shoes off at the door. Sherlock frowned when she ignored the question and watched her from his seat at the kitchen island. She saw the look on his face as she got a bottle of water from the fridge and laughed. "You're acting like you didn't know we were dating. I told you the night Lestrade and I got together weeks ago." Céline rolled her eyes, sitting beside him.

"Well, I didn't have to see it until now." Sherlock pouted, crossing his arms.

"Then don't watch out the window like a puppy dog waiting for its owner." She laughed at his pouting. Sherlock turned red. "So what are you doing here?"

"I was bored." Sherlock simply answered.

"Oh, and I somehow am going to help?" She replied, knowing that he wanted to play chess. When he was bored they would play it. Sherlock shrugged.

"I needed a change of scenery….how about some chess?" He asked. Sherlock stood from the island and went to her bookshelf, taking a chess set off of one of the shelves. He sat it down on the island and Céline took a seat beside him. They began to play.

A couple hours later it was 1am. Céline had won two games and Sherlock had won two. They were currently neck and neck on their tie-breaking game. It was Céline's turn and she had been staring at the board for a couple minutes thinking. Sherlock watched her. He realized he was staring and blushed a bit. She finally made a move and he looked at the board and frowned.

"Checkmate." She smirked, giving him a triumphant glance. Sherlock groaned in defeat. She stood up and tossed her water bottle in the garbage as Sherlock put everything away. Céline yawned and stretched.

"Do you need anything before I go to bed?" She asked. Sherlock frowned.

"You're going to bed?" He protested. Céline laughed.

"It's 1 am Sherlock!" She argued back.

"I don't want to sit up alone," Sherlock admitted. "I need to talk to someone. Sit with me for just a little bit. Maybe we can watch some tv, I'll predict the episode outcomes?" Sherlock suggested, hopeful. Céline perked an eyebrow.

"Fine." She agreed. They sat on the couch and watched a random show playing on BBC.

* * *

After a couple episodes Sherlock went to say something but before he could speak he felt a head lightly fall onto his shoulder. Céline had fallen asleep. Sherlock felt nervous but did his best to not move. When his shoulder twitched a bit Céline yawned and rubbed her eyes, still asleep. Sherlock raised his arm awkwardly and Céline laid her head onto his chest, snoring a bit. Sherlock felt his heart beating fast. He didn't know what to do other than let her sleep. He gently laid his arm around her and she nuzzled closer to him in her sleep. Sherlock watched her for a while. He studied her face and smiled a bit. She was so different than everyone else. No matter how many times and no matter how close he studied her nothing took away from his affections.

He searched his mind palace for a while. Until he found the memory of the first day they met and the first case they worked on together at the Scotland Yard. It was strange to him. He saw her get out of Lestrade's car and it felt like time suddenly was moving in slow motion. Once she got out of the car she was the only thing he could see. His stomach twisted with nerves. The entire case he remembered how much she believed in him, how much she defended him to her colleagues, her endearing mannerisms, and how well they were able to analyze evidence together. He had fallen head over heels the second he saw her and it was cemented in his mind by the end of the case. At first, it frightened him. He had never experienced anything like it before. Frankly, he never thought he could experience anything like it. After the case, he kept in contact with her because he suddenly wanted to be around her and know everything about her.

The second he saw her he decided that he would wait for her. He would wait for her to fall in love with him as he had with her. This was because he didn't want to be rejected, he didn't want to lose her. And he was ready to wait a lifetime. Sherlock carefully picked her up and carried her bridal style to her bed. Céline was still fast asleep. He laid her in bed and tucked her in. As he pulled the blanket over her she opened her eyes a bit, still half-asleep. The room was dark but the city lights and the light of the moon faintly came through a space in the window that the curtains didn't cover. She saw him and smiled. In her mind, it was a dream. She reached out and touched his face. Sherlock blushed and froze up.

"Sherlock?" She softly spoke.

"Céline?" Sherlock responded, his tone also soft.

"You're so handsome in the moonlight." She dreamily spoke as she drifted off into sleep again. Her eyes closed and she pulled her blanket close. Sherlock felt a rare smile on his lips. He gently touched her face as she slept. She looked so angelic in the moonlight. Like a marble statue. After a long moment of watching her sleep Sherlock left and went home.

* * *

The next day Céline joined Watson on a trip to Tesco. They both had to pick up some things and decided to go together when Céline got off work. Céline finished her purchase at the self-checkout and went over to stand by Watson as he scanned his items at a different self-checkout. The machine was giving him a hard time and other customers were watching. Watson cursed and hit the machine but before he could embarrass himself further Céline pushed him over and paid for the groceries so they could leave. Once they got out Watson took a deep breath.

"Thank you." He spoke. Céline smiled.

"No problem." She replied as they walked to 221 street. Sherlock heard them as they came up the stairs. Unbeknownst to Céline and Watson, he had been battling a warrior in the apartment all morning.

"You both took your time," Sherlock observed. Céline rolled her eyes and sat on the couch. Sherlock watched her as she checked the time on her watch. Her heels were a half inch higher than the ones she usually wore and her hair was down and curled. He figured that she would be going on a date with Lestrade and frowned. Watson ignored him and went to put the groceries on the counter.

"Céline got the groceries," Watson spoke. Sherlock shot him a puzzled glance.

"Yes. Sherlock, you owe me big." Céline teased.

"Well, why didn't you get them?" He asked Watson.

"I had a row in the shop. With the chip and pin machine." Watson tried to explain. Céline giggled a bit.

"You had a row with a machine?" Sherlock asked, confused.

"Well sort off..." Watson began.

"He was being abused by the machine so I stepped in like the Good Samaritan I am." Céline finished explaining. Sherlock looked over to her, he was getting pouty.

"Well I would offer to take you to dinner but I see you have a date already," Sherlock spoke with a grumpy tone. Céline laughed.

"Ah! The genius deduces my date with Lestrade! Which is..." She checked her watch. "In a half hour." Watson watched them. He perked an eyebrow at Sherlock's attitude. Was he jealous?

"You could always go do the shopping yourself, you know. You've been sitting there all morning, you haven't moved since I went out." Watson cut in. Céline noticed a blade half hiding under the coffee table at the same time as Sherlock while Watson was speaking. "What happened about that case you were offered? The Jaria diamond." Watson continued. Sherlock and Céline made eye contact as Sherlock pushed it under the coffee table with his foot. She gave him a knowing smirk and he gave her a look to keep quiet.

"Not interested. I sent them a message." Sherlock answered Watson. He got up from the couch and walked over to to the desk, opening up Watson's laptop.

"Is that my computer?" Watson asked, crossing his arms.

"Of course." Sherlock flatly spoke. Céline watched the two men and giggled. Watson glared at him for a long moment. Sherlock felt his glare and tilted his head.

"What?" Sherlock snapped. "Mine is in the bedroom."

"And you couldn't be bothered to get up?" Watson snapped. Sherlock rolled his eyes and didn't answer. "It's password protected." Watson continued.

"Took me less than a minute to guess yours. Not exactly Fort Knox." Sherlock snapped back. Céline got a message from Lestrade, Sherlock heard the text tone.

 _I can't wait to see you._

Sherlock saw her smile and reply in the corner of his eye and it put him in a worse mood.

"You guessed my password!?" Watson continued.

"I see you've started a blog..." Sherlock began changing the subject. Céline and Watson exchanged a glance.

"There's my cue to go." Céline stood and grabbed her bag of groceries. "Goodbye!"

"See you later," Watson replied, opening the door for her. Sherlock didn't say anything. Watson frowned and crossed his arms. Once Céline left Watson watched Sherlock.

"You know, if you really like her, why don't you just act nice?" Watson asked, rolling his eyes. Sherlock didn't say anything. "A pissy attitude isn't the way to show a woman you like her."

"Imperious. Not a word I've ever been called before." Sherlock replied. Ignoring Watson and changing the subject to the blog.

"I said some nice stuff about you too... I said you knew some good restaurants." Watson responded. Sherlock continued to scroll, he suddenly scoffed.

"Pompous has a u in it." Sherlock corrected. Watson went over and grabbed the mail, it was full of red bills. Late bills.

"I need to get a job," Watson observed as he flipped through them. Sherlock went to sit in one of the armchairs.

"Oh. Dull!" Sherlock rolled his eyes, flopping into the chair. Watson shot him a look. Sherlock's text tone went off and the detective pulled out his phone.

"Yeah. But necessary. If we want to eat actual food this month." Watson spoke. He suddenly felt stressed out and gulped. "If you could see your way to lending me some…" Sherlock jumped up after checking his phone. He walked past Watson to grab his coat and ignored him. "Sherlock? Did you hear what I said?" Watson asked. Sherlock opened the front door.

"I need to go to the bank," Sherlock demanded before rushing out. Watson cursed and followed close behind.


	7. The Blind Banker 2

Sherlock and Watson were storming down the hall of a massive megabank. Watson adjusted his collar nervously.

"When you said we were going to the bank…" He began as they circled the trading floor. Before Watson could finish speaking Sherlock led them into a corner office. The man at the desk perked up in excitement and stood.

"Sherlock Holmes!" He stood and offered him a hand. Sherlock didn't move to shake it.

"Sebastian." Sherlock flatly replied. Watson watched the two men as they interacted.

"How are you, buddy? How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Sebastian spoke. As he did he gave Watson a confused look.

"This is my friend John Watson." Sherlock retorted. Sebastian perked an eyebrow.

"Friend?" He asked, surprised.

"Colleague." Watson quickly corrected. He shook Sebastian's hand and grimaced at his tight shake.

"Need something? Coffee? Water?" Sebastian asked as he went to sit back down at his desk. Sherlock ignored the question.

"You're doing well. Spending lots of time abroad." Sherlock observed. Sebastian knowingly chuckled.

"Well, some…" He began. Sherlock cut him off.

"Flying all the way around the world. Twice a month!" Sherlock snapped. Sebastian laughed.

"You're doing that thing." As Sebastian spoke he turned to Watson. "We were at Uni together, and this guy here, he had this trick he used to do."

"It's not a trick." Sherlock attempted to correct him.

"He could look at you and tell your whole life story." Sebastian continued. Watson rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I've seen him do it." He tried to reply.

"Put the wind up on everyone. We hated him. You'd come to breakfast in the formal hall and this freak he would know who you'd been shagging the previous night." Sebastian continued. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I simply observed." Sherlock snapped.

"Go on. Enlighten me. 'Two trips a month, flying all around the world'. You're quite right. But how could you tell?" Sebastian asked, with a smug attitude. "Gonna tell 'em there's a stain on my tie. From a type of ketchup, you can only buy in Manhattan? Or maybe it's the mud on my shoes…" Sebastian continued, trying to outsmart Sherlock.

"I was chatting to your Secretary outside. She told me." Sherlock flatly replied. Sebastian shot him an annoyed look and changed the subject.

"At any rate…I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break in." He explained.

* * *

When Céline returned home she began to feel nervous. Her relationship with Lestrade had been making her feel horribly guilty. His wife had come by the station about a week ago and they had met for the first time. It made her feel shaken up about everything. Céline sigh and drank a bottle of water while she waited for Lestrade. He ran her apartment bell a few minutes later and they headed to their reservation.

* * *

Sebastian led Sherlock and Watson into an office that was locked with a swipe card.

"Sir William's Office. The bank 's former chairman. His room has been left here like a sort of memorial...Someone broke in here late last night." Sebastian explained. Watson perked an eyebrow.

"What did they steal?" He asked, assuming it was a robbery. Sebastian shook his head.

"Nothing. They just left a little message." Sebastian explained as he gestured to a large painting of a banker. A plaque beside it read 'SIR WILLIAM SHAD. 1944-2009. CHAIRMAN.' There was a thick yellow line across Sir William's eyes Sherlock took a photo of it. He and John exchanged a glance and then followed Sebastian back to his office to review some CCTV footage.

The men watched the footage. Between 11:33 and 11:34 pm the paint appeared without any sign of a person in the office.

"Sixty seconds apart. So someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around - then left within a minute." Sebastian observed. Sherlock perked an eyebrow.

"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock asked.

"That's where this gets really interesting," Sebastian smirked. He led the men to a reception desk. "Every door that opens in this bank it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard. Every toilet." As Sebastian spoke he studied all of the logs.

"That door didn't open last night?" Sherlock observed. Sebastian shook his head, pulling out a check.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you. Five figures." He offered. Watson took the check when Sherlock refused to and gasped at the amount. "This is only an advance. Tell me how he got in there's a bigger one on its way."

"I don't need incentives, Sebastian." Sherlock snapped cold. Watson waved his hand as Sherlock went to look back at the log.

"He's kidding you, obviously. I can look after this for him…" Watson began.

* * *

Lestrade and Céline sat in a small restaurant near her apartment. They sat across the table and chatted about work. They were holding hands on the table.

"You look beautiful tonight." Lestrade smiled. Céline blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you, Greg." She softly spoke. Lestrade had noticed a slight change in demeanor over the course of the night.

"Is something wrong?" Lestrade asked as Céline took a sip of her wine. She thought about it for a moment.

"I don't know…" She began.

"Tell me." Lestrade pressed. Céline sadly smiled.

"Greg…it's about your wife…" She tried to explain. Lestrade shifted uncomfortably. "I feel, I don't know… I feel really guilty. When I met her last week. It gave her a face and I can't get it out of my mind."

"Céline…" Lestrade began.

"You know what, let's not think about it. Please…I'd really like to have a wonderful night with you." Céline cut him off. She didn't want to ruin the evening. Her feelings and her mind were all muddled up.

* * *

Sherlock and Watson had left the bank and were now on the way back to 221 B. Baker Street.

"'Two trips around the world this month.' You didn't ask his Secretary. You said that just to irritate him." Watson observed. Sherlock smirked and laughed. "How did you know…?"

"Did you look at his watch?" Sherlock asked. Watson gave him a puzzled look.

"His watch?" Watson asked.

"The hands on his watch were correct but the date was wrong," Sherlock explained. "It actually said the day before yesterday. He crossed the dateline twice, and didn't alter his watch."

"Within a month? How did you know that part?" Watson pressed. Sherlock shrugged.

"New Rolex. Only came out in February." Sherlock quickly explained. "Are you sure we shouldn't sniff around there a bit longer?" Watson asked. Looking back at the building as the sunset.

"Got everything I need to know already, thanks," Sherlock spoke, lost in thought about the insignia.

* * *

After dinner, Lestrade walked Céline home. When they came to her doorstep it was dark. He kissed her and then hesitated.

"Do you want to come inside?" Céline asked. She wanted to see if this would help. If this would change anything. If she could go through with this next step with Lestrade. He happily followed her upstairs. When they made it to her apartment they both removed their shoes and jackets before beginning to kiss. It was 10:30 pm.

* * *

Sherlock had been sitting at home for hours trying to think about what the insignia meant. He checked his watch. It was 11 pm. He stood up and got his coat. He decided to run by Céline's house to see what she thought. He had also missed her, all day in the back of his head his mind had been wandering to what Watson said that morning. He felt bad and wanted to see if she was upset with him. When Sherlock got to her house he got a bad feeling but ignored it. He reached her door and unlocked it with his key and froze when he entered the apartment. Her coat was lying on the kitchen island with Greg Lestrade's. Their shoes were strewn about the entrance. Sherlock suddenly heard voices and wandered into the apartment toward her bedroom.

Sherlock slowly approached the bedroom door, it was slightly ajar. He suddenly felt sick at what he saw. Céline and Lestrade were in bed together. Céline was sitting in his lap and he was kissing her. Her dress was off and thrown on the ground. She was wearing nothing but her undergarments. Sherlock couldn't move. He watched, angry and sick with jealousy, as Lestrade touched her and kissed her. Céline's head fell back as Lestrade kissed her neck and Sherlock promptly exited the apartment, locking the door so she wouldn't know he had seen what he saw.

Everything was gone from his mind and he was scrambled up. He didn't know what to do with himself. He took off down the road and walked home and went to his room. He paced around the rest of the night. Imagining in his head everything Céline and Lestrade could have been doing. He was angry and upset with himself for not doing anything to show her of his affections. He was afraid that he had lost her. However, things went far different than he imagined. A few minutes after he left Céline stopped Lestrade from removing her bra.

"Greg." She began, suddenly uncomfortable. "I don't know about this." He pulled away and cupped her face.

"What is it, Céline?" Lestrade asked. She was feeling guilty again.

"I don't know if I can do this." She spoke.

"That's fine, we can wait. We don't have to..." Lestrade began.

"No, Greg." Céline got up and grabbed a robe. "I don't know if I want to stay together like this. I've been thinking about I said…at the restaurant." This made Lestrade upset.

"Céline..." He went to her and took her hand. "Why? What..." she touched the wedding band that he wore.

"You're a married man Greg." She touched his face. "Don't misunderstand me. I do like you. I like you a lot. But...I don't want to be the other woman." She softly spoke. Lestrade was quiet for a long moment and he nodded, putting his shirt back on. Before he left he kissed her cheek.

"I understand Céline. I'll see you when I get back from the conference." He sadly spoke before leaving. When he left she felt tears in her eyes. She hated to let him go but she couldn't live with the guilt. She took out her phone and began to text Sherlock, she needed a friend but she decided not to. He wouldn't know how to help her, he didn't understand.


	8. The Blind Banker 3

The next morning Watson came into the kitchen to get coffee.

"That graffiti is a message, John. For someone at the bank working on the trading floor. We find the intended recipient and…" Sherlock spoke as he entered the room.

"Have you gotten any sleep?" Watson asked, observing that Sherlock was in the same clothes. He seemed irritated as well. Sherlock ignored him.

"He'll to lead us to the person who sent the message." Sherlock continued as Watson poured himself some hot water for tea.

"Three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?" Watson asked.

"Pillars." Sherlock flatly answered.

"What?" Watson asked.

"The pillars. And the screens. There were very few places where you could see the graffiti. That narrows the field considerably." Sherlock explained. "And of course the message was left at 11:34 last night. That tells us a lot."

"Does it?" Watson questioned.

"Traders come to work at all hours. Some people trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight. Not many Van Coon's in the phone book." Sherlock observed before he and Watson went to find Van Coon's apartment.

* * *

Céline was in early. She had barely slept the previous night and she was waiting around to get coffee at the small coffee shop at the bottom of the Scotland Yard building. When she got her coffee she wandered upstairs and found Detective inspector Dimmock waiting for her at her desk.

"Good Morning." Céline smiled. He smiled back.

"Morning…Uh…I know you have a lot of work here but I was wondering if you would come with me to a crime scene. Greg just texted me about it." Dimmock asked. He passed her his phone. She read the text.

Sherlock Holmes found a dead man at this address. Please make sure he doesn't contaminate the crime scene.

"Of course. I can come with you." Céline spoke. She felt confused. Why hadn't Sherlock texted her about it? Dimmock seemed really relieved.

"Thank you. I'll grab my stuff and we can get the team over there." He spoke.

* * *

Sherlock and Watson were waiting for the police in the bedroom. Van Coon lay on the bed dead.

"You think maybe he'd lost a lot of money? The suicide rate is pretty high amongst these city types." Watson asked. Sherlock shook his head.

"We don't know that it was suicide." Sherlock snapped.

"Come on! His door was locked from the inside. You had to climb across the balcony…" Watson began. Sherlock didn't look up from his phone. "Did you text Céline? Is she on the way?" Watson asked. Sherlock's face curled up in annoyance.

"Why would I text Céline?" He cruelly snapped. Watson was surprised at this outburst.

"What do you mean why would you text Céline?" Watson asked.

"Well, her priorities are obviously elsewhere and I need someone who will help me with this case." Sherlock snapped again. Watson rubbed his eyes. He was taken aback.

"Have I missed something?" As Watson spoke Dimmock and Céline entered with the police. Sherlock ignored Céline and went to speak with Dimmock.

"Ah, Sergeant... We haven't met." Sherlock began. Dimmock frowned and rolled his eyes.

"I know who you are. And I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." He snapped. Céline and Watson exchanged a glance.

"I phoned Lestrade." Sherlock snapped back. Céline frowned, she felt hurt. He usually called or texted her first. "Is he on his way…"

"He's out of town at a conference. Céline and I are in charge. And it's not Sergeant. It's Detective Inspector. Dimmock." Dimmock snapped. Sherlock sent Céline a look.

"Oh, I see. So there had to be a grand goodbye didn't there?" Sherlock spat. Céline went to say something, turning bright red. Did he think her and Lestrade slept together? But Dimmock simply took off into the other room after looking at the body. Céline and Watson followed. Sherlock stayed behind. He was in an awful mood.

"Céline, so I think it's safe to say we are obviously looking at a suicide," Dimmock observed. Céline nodded in agreement. She was taking down some notes in her folio.

"It does seem the only explanation of the facts." Watson thankfully spoke. He felt bad that Sherlock was acting so nasty toward Céline and he couldn't figure out what happened.

"Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution that you like... but you're just choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it." Sherlock snapped. He turned his attention to Céline again. "It's not like you sat and watched while someone committed an act that they will one day regret." Before Céline could snap back. Dimmock stepped between her and Sherlock.

"What are we ignoring?" Dimmock snapped.

"The wound is on the right side of his head." Sherlock snapped.

"And?" Dimmock asked.

"Van Coon was left-handed." Sherlock snapped. Contorting his arm as if he was trying to shoot himself. "Requires quite a bit of contortion."

"Left-handed?" Dimmock asked.

"I'm amazed you didn't notice. Especially you Céline, then again you have been a bit distracted with other things lately. Haven't you?" Sherlock asked. She was getting upset. She felt tears prick up in her eyes.

"Sherlock…what…" She snapped but he just talked over her.

"All you have to do is look around this flat, tea stains from the bottom of mugs, where he's been resting them on the arm of that chair. The left arm... Pad and paper on the left side of his phone, means he could hold it in his right hand and take messages with his left... All his expensive, favorite suits on the left side of his wardrobe, because he'd open the left-hand door…" As he continued Watson watched Céline. He saw she was confused and upset. He was also getting annoyed at Sherlock. "The butter knife on the kitchen surface has butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left. Unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of the head. Conclusion: someone in and murdered him. The only explanation of all of the facts."

"But the gun?" Dimmock asked.

"He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened." Sherlock spoke.

"What?" Céline asked. Watson stepped in before Sherlock could make another quip.

"Last night at the bank. There was a sort of…warning." Watson explained to her. He went over and showed Céline a photo for the vandalized artwork that he took on his phone.

"He fired when his attacker came in," Sherlock explained.

"And the bullet…" Dimmock asked.

"Went out the window." Sherlock cut him off. Céline heard the other officers watching and whispering about the confrontation.

"Oh, come on! What are the chances of that?" Dimmock snapped. Rolling his eyes.

"Wait for the pathologist's report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun, I guarantee." Sherlock explained.

"But if his door was locked from the inside... how did the killer get in?"

"Good. You're finally asking the right questions." Sherlock snapped. He walked out and ran into Céline on the way out. She frowned and watched as Watson followed him. Dimmock rubbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry about him. He was being right nasty." Dimmock observed. "I can wrap up here if you need to go back to the office." Céline nodded.

"I think I will go back to the office." She replied, frazzled.

* * *

After leaving the crime scene Sherlock took off toward the usual restaurant Sebastian entertained clients at to confront him. It was a short walk from Van Coon's Watson followed close behind.

"What the hell was that?" Watson shouted.

"What the hell was what?" Sherlock asked, aggravated.

"What happened with you and Céline?" Watson asked. Sherlock shook his head.

"Nothing happened." He snapped at Watson. "I guess I'm just finally seeing who she is." They reached the restaurant before Watson could ask anything else.

"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant." Sherlock snapped as he and Watson reached the table Sebastian was at. The table went silent. "I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?" Sherlock smirked and looked around at the table.

"I don't think this can wait, Seb. Sorry. One of your traders someone in your office was killed." He flatly spoke. Sebastian was shocked at the news.

"What!?" He asked.

"Van Coon. The police are at his flat." Sherlock continued.

"Killed?" Sebastian asked. Still confused and shocked. Everyone at the office stared at Sebastian. He was embarrassed.

"Sorry to interfere with everyone's digestion. Still, want me to make an appointment? OK. Would maybe nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?" Sherlock sarcastically asked. Sebastian excused himself and went to the men's room with Sherlock and Watson.

"Harrow. Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while so…" Sebastian began.

"You gave him the Hong Kong accounts," Watson observed.

"Lost five mil in a single morning. Made it all back a week later. Had nerves of steel, Eddie did." Sebastian explained.

"Who'd want to kill him?" Watson asked.

"We all makes enemies," Sebastian observed.

"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple." Watson pressed.

"Not usually." Sebastian shrugged. His phone buzzed and he checked it. Relief crossed his face.

"My Chairman. The police have been on to him. Apparently, they're telling him it was suicide." He thankfully spoke. Sherlock cut in.

"They've got it wrong. He was murdered, Sebastian." Sherlock argued.

"I'm afraid they don't see it that way. And neither does my boss." Sebastian shrugged, ready to put Van Coon behind him.

"I hired you to do a job, don't get side-tracked." Sebastian snapped. After he left Sherlock and Watson returned back to 221 B. Baker Street. Céline was waiting outside of their apartment. Her and Sherlock made eye contact and she crossed her arms. Watson stayed behind.

"We need to talk." Céline snapped.

"What do we have to talk about?" Sherlock shrugged. He pushed past her and went upstairs. She followed.

"Sherlock! You can't just treat me like this and expect me to just get over it. What crawled up your arse and died?" She shouted as they went up the stairs.

"Wow, Céline. This is quite vulgar. I have an investigation I'm working on and I don't want you coming in and distracting me." Sherlock shouted back. Watson decided to stay downstairs. Miss. Hudson rushed out.

"Was that Céline? Are she and Sherlock yelling at each other?" She asked. Watson nodded.

"They're fighting. I'm not sure what happened…." Watson spoke

"Oh dear." Miss. Hudson frowned. "Not a lovers quarrel I hope." They stayed downstairs and listened as Céline and Sherlock argued.

"Sherlock. I'm serious. Everything was fine two days ago. Why are you acting like this?" Céline snapped.

"Why am I acting like this? This is how I am Céline." Sherlock tried to dismiss her concern, taking off his scarf and tossing it in a chair.

"No. This is not how you are Sherlock." She frowned. "For one, you usually don't try to embarrass me at my job."

"You're doing that yourself. With all this Lestrade stuff." Sherlock snapped, raising his voice and throwing his coat on the couch. Céline was dumbfounded.

"This Lestrade stuff?" She began. "This Lestrade stuff!? You knew about Greg and me before anyone else did Sherlock. It's not like it was a secret to you!?" She shouted, also raising her voice.

"Are you going to call and tell him how awful I am?" Sherlock mocked. He was speaking fast and was blind with annoyance and jealousy. "I'm surprised you didn't sneak away to the conference with him. Especially after you fucked him!" Sherlock shouted at the top of his lungs. After he spoke he suddenly shut up and turned away from her. He turned bright red. He had given himself away. Céline also turned bright red. That was why he was upset. He was jealous. She hadn't realized until this moment. He liked her. Miss. Hudson and Watson exchanged glances.

"Did you come to my apartment last night?" Céline asked. Sherlock didn't look at her. "Were you at my apartment last night!?" She screamed. Sherlock nodded.

"I was." He was upset and melancholy now. "I was going to…never mind." Sherlock coldly spoke. Céline stared at him.

"Sherlock. Why does me being with Greg make you so upset?" She asked. She wanted him to say it. Sherlock walked to the fireplace. Céline followed close behind. "Answer me!"

"It doesn't make me upset!" Sherlock shouted, lying. He turned to her and frowned. "I should have known. You're a woman with needs after all. And a married man, that's enticing, isn't it…much more enticing than a freak like me…"

"Sherlock we didn't have sex!" She shouted to cut him off before he could continue.

"Oh please don't lie to me! I saw…" He began.

"If you saw us you should know what happened!" Céline cut him off again. She was getting upset and began to cry. "I broke things off with him Sherlock."

"You what?" Sherlock asked. He felt like a jerk.

"I broke it off with him!" She repeated. "Sherlock, if you expected me to know that you felt something for me why didn't you get up the courage to tell me before someone else did?" She shouted. Sherlock turned red. He tried to touch her shoulder to comfort her.

"Céline…" She slapped his hand away and left, slamming the door at the top of the stairs behind her. When Miss. Hudson and Watson saw her coming down the stairs they tried to pretend they weren't listening.

"I'm sorry." Céline quickly spoke before running out. Watson followed her.

"Céline, wait!" He called. He placed a hand on her shoulder and hugged her. She hugged him back and collapsed into tears. Watson rubbed her back. "He'll come around. Let me walk you home." Céline nodded and they began to walk to her flat. Miss. Hudson went upstairs and saw Sherlock staring out the window. Sherlock was upset with himself.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself Sherlock." She scolded. "Treating a nice girl that way. You'll be lucky if she speaks to you again. You'd better beg for forgiveness."


	9. The Blind Banker 4

The next day Céline got called in early. There had been another murder that looked the exact same as Van Coon's. Céline and Dimmock went to the crime scene and closed it off. She quickly texted Watson. Watson got the text as he returned to 221b Baker Street from an interview at the hospital. He walked in and saw Sherlock sitting in the same place he had been sitting all night.

"Oh good, you're still up," Watson observed. Sherlock didn't move. "Céline texted me." Sherlock jumped up and snatched his phone from his hands.

"What did she say?" Sherlock asked as he read the text. He was annoyed that it was not about him. It was an article and an explanation of the crime scene. The article was titled ''The intruder who can walk through walls'.

 _Just pulled up to a new crime scene. A journalist was shot dead in his apartment. Door locked. Windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon. You may want to come by._

"Why didn't she text this to me?" Sherlock asked, upset, as Watson snatched his phone back from him.

"Maybe because you were acting like a psychotic maniac yesterday," Watson answered. Sherlock went to get his coat, pouting the whole way.

"Well, let's go then. He's killed another one." Sherlock snapped before leaving.

* * *

When Sherlock and Watson got to the Scotland Yard they both saw Céline standing in line for her coffee at the small coffee shop at the bottom level.

"There she is," Watson observed. He began to walk to her but Sherlock stayed behind, suddenly feeling nervous. Watson turned and crossed his arms. "Really?" Sherlock glared.

"Yes…really." He crossed his arms. He was both too embarrassed and too prideful to go and speak with her. Watson rolled his eyes and walked over. Céline saw Watson and smiled.

"Thank you for coming." She smiled as they hugged each other.

"Of course." Watson smiled. She picked up her coffee.

"Is he…" Céline began.

"Yes…but…he's a bit embarrassed with himself." Watson replied. Céline looked past him and saw Sherlock leaning against pillar close to the front doors in the lobby. Pretending that he wasn't watching them.

"He is such a dramatic sod." Céline rolled her eyes. As she and Watson began to head upstairs Sherlock quickly followed. The three of them stood awkwardly in the elevator for a long moment until Céline opened her folio. "His name was Brian Lukis. Journalist. Freelance. Murdered in his flat. The door locked from the inside. Very similar. We checked with ballistics and the shot that killed him was not from his own gun. Same with Van Coon." Céline turned back to look at Sherlock, he wouldn't look her in the eye. "I told Dimmock to give you five minutes in the flat. We're going up to get him so you can look around." Before Sherlock could say anything or thank her she stormed off the elevator, Watson in tow. When they got to the flat it was roped off with police tape. Céline stood close to Watson. Dimmock followed Sherlock around as he observed the apartment. Sherlock was checking to see if the windows were locked.

"Fourth floor. That's why they think they're safe. Put the chain on the door, bolt it shut. They think they're impregnable. They never consider for a moment…there's another way in here." Sherlock spoke. Céline looked over her notes and came across a layout of the flat she had picked up from the downstairs booking office.

"I don't understand…" Dimmock began.

"There's a skylight. Is it locked?" Céline spoke up. Her and Sherlock exchanged a glance. She passed him the layout to look at and he quickly grabbed a broom and chair. Going to position himself under it.

"A skylight?" Dimmock asked, confused.

"We're dealing with a killer who can climb." Sherlock snapped. "He can cling to walls like an insect. That's how he gets in." Sherlock lifted the broom and poked the skylight. It opened.

"He climbed up the side of this building, ran across the roof and dropped in through the skylight," Sherlock exclaimed.

"You're not serious?" Dimmock rolled his eyes.

"He scaled a sixth-floor balcony in Docklands to kill Van Coon. Of course, he got into the bank the same way...Across the window ledge and on to the terrace." Sherlock jumped down from the chair. "We have to find out what connects these two men." He spoke to Watson, picking up a book from Lukis's desk. After finishing up at the flat Céline and Dimmock returned to the police station. Sherlock and Watson went to the library and found another yellow graffiti tag, the same as the one found in the bank. Back at 221b Baker Street Sherlock had pasted up the graffiti onto the mirror. Sherlock and Watson both stared at it.

"The killer goes to the bank, leaves the threatening cipher for Van Coon. Van Coon panics, goes back to his flat and locks himself inside. Just hours later... he dies." Sherlock spoke.

"The killer finds Lukis at the library, he writes the cipher on the books where the guy will see it. Lukis goes home…" Watson began.

"…and that night he dies too." Sherlock finished.

"Why did they die, Sherlock?" Watson asked.

"Only the cipher can tell us." Sherlock shrugged.

* * *

Céline left work early that afternoon. As she stepped out she saw a familiar face waiting for her beside a limousine.

"Mycroft, I am really not in the mood today." Céline snapped. Mycroft opened the door for her.

"Please, I noticed you haven't eaten anything today. Let me take you to lunch?" He suggested. She rolled her eyes and got into the limo. Mycroft got in with her. After a few quiet moments, he perked an eyebrow. "I see you haven't taken out your phone to text him?"

"No, I haven't." Céline quickly answered.

"Interesting," Mycroft replied. When they reached the address he helped her out of the car and led her into a very fancy restaurant. They were led to a table reserved in the very back of the restaurant and the waiter poured them each a glass of the best house wine. Leaving the bottle behind.

"This is a bit extravagant, don't you think?" Céline asked, taking a sip. Mycroft shrugged, also sipping from his wine.

"Nothing is too extravagant for my almost sister-in-law." He teased. She turned red and crossed her arms.

"Very funny." She snapped.

"Oh? Trouble in paradise?" Mycroft innocently asked.

"Oh, you didn't know?" She perked an eyebrow. Mycroft smiled.

"Okay, maybe I was aware," Mycroft replied.

"So what is this meeting for?" Céline asked.

"I love checking in on you." Mycroft quickly responded. "I wanted to see how things were going. I mean, you should know that by now."

"How very kind of you?" She sarcastically replied.

"So what happened?" Mycroft asked. "I don't know any specific details and frankly I am very curious. My brother does not often wrap himself up in love triangles." Céline just watched him. She wanted to trust him, to confide in someone.

"Well, it started a couple of weeks ago…" She began.

* * *

Sherlock and Watson were at Trafalgar Square.

"The world runs on codes and ciphers, John. That million-pound security system at the bank, the pin machine you took exception to, cryptography inhabits our every waking moment!" Sherlock spoke.

"Yes. OK. But?" Watson asked.

"But it's all computer generated. Electronic codes, electronic ciphering methods. This is different. It's an ancient device. Modern code-breaking methods can't unravel it." Sherlock explained.

"Where we headed?" Watson asked. Sherlock bit his lip.

"I need some advice." He replied.

"We were just at Scotland Yard, why didn't you just ask Céline when you were there…" Watson rolled his eyes.

"I don't need advice from Céline!" Sherlock snapped. "Besides, I'd be surprised if she'd want to help me."

"Didn't she already? Getting you five minutes in the flat?" Watson asked, crossing his arms. "You know, you'd really apologize."

"Look! John! I need a painting expert. Céline is not a painter." Sherlock snapped, annoyed.

"Well. You should still apologize." Watson quipped before they turned down a side alley along the back of the National Gallery. Sherlock ignored him.

* * *

Céline and Mycroft were both finishing their lunch. She had explained her affair with Lestrade and how Sherlock had begun to act.

"And yesterday, at the crime scene he just kept being so vulgar. I went to speak to him at 221b Baker Street and he got so upset…Mycroft. Do you know why? I don't understand. I thought…"

"That he was asexual? That he couldn't care about a woman?" Mycroft asked. Céline nodded.

"My brother has always had deep feelings for a few people here and there. You see, he had a friend when we were children…Redbeard. The longer story is for another day but there was a tragic accident. Now, I suppose he feels scared to express himself emotionally. You and John Watson are the closest he has been with anyone since our youth." Mycroft explained. "I think, he's met his match with you. I also think it makes him very uncomfortable. That's why he lashed out about Greg. He thinks in his mind that you two have each other because of your compatible intelligence. But when he found out you were seeing another man. It shattered that illusion and he realized he had not made you aware of his feelings. But…thats just my opinion." Mycroft spoke before pouring himself another glass from the bottle of wine on the table.

* * *

Sherlock and Watson came across a graffiti artist after turning into the alleyway.

"Part of my new exhibition." The artist spoke as they walked up. Sherlock studied the artwork.

"Interesting," Sherlock observed.

"I call it 'Urbanbloodlustfrenzy.'" The artist pridefully spoke.

"Catchy." Watson awkwardly spoke.

"I've got two minutes before a Community Support Officer comes round that corner. Can we maybe talk whilst I'm working?" The artist asked. Passing his aerosol can to Watson so he could look at the image Sherlock offered on his phone.

"Know the author?" Sherlock asked. The artist shook his head.

"I know the paint. Looks like Michigan, hardcore propellant. I'd say zinc." The artist explained.

"And what about the symbols? Do you recognize them?" Sherlock asked as the artist flipped through the images.

"It's not a tag. I'm not even sure it's a proper language." He handed the phone back.

"Two men have been murdered. Deciphering this is the key to finding who killed them." Sherlock explained.

"This is all you got? Not much to go on." The artist spoke.

"You think you could help out?" Sherlock asked.

"I can ask around." The artist nodded. Suddenly, two community support officers came around the corner in pursuit. The graffiti artist and Sherlock took off down the alleyway. Watson tried to follow but was caught by the officers and taken into Scotland Yard.

* * *

"I just. I don't know what to think. Or how to proceed. He's been acting like a big child." Céline explained.

"Well, how do you feel about my brother, Céline?" Mycroft asked. Céline was taken aback by the question. She had never really thought of it.

"I…" As she began to answer her phone rang. She checked the caller ID and saw it was from the Scotland Yard. "I'm sorry Mycroft I have to take this." Mycroft nodded and paid for the meal as she walked to the lobby of the restaurant. "Hello?" She asked.

"Céline! Thank god!" It was Watson.

"Watson? Why are you calling me from the Scotland Yard?" She asked, confused. "Is everything alright?"

"Well, …it's a long story. I was out with Sherlock. We were asking around for some advice with the spray paint used in those photos I showed you. And now…well…I got arrested for defacing a public building. I was wondering if you could…help me out…." Watson nervously spoke. Céline chuckled.

"I'll be there in 10 minutes." She replied. Watson thanked her and hung up. She returned to Mycroft. "Can you please drop me off back at Scotland Yard?" Mycroft helped her put her trench coat back on and nodded.

"Of course I can." He replied. They left and he dropped her off at Scotland Yard. She rushed inside and filed a wrongful arrest report and got Watson out without a charge. The two of them walked back to 221b Baker Street. Céline bid him farewell and headed home. When Watson came in he saw Sherlock mulling over various cryptic codes.

"You've been a while." Sherlock observed without looking up.

"Yeah, well you know how it is. Custody Sergeants don't like to be hurried, do they? Just formalities. Fingerprints, a charge sheet. Thank god I got ahold of Céline or I would have had to be in Magistrates Court on Tuesday!" Watson growled.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"I called Céline! She got me off an ASBO. For criminal damage!" Watson snapped.

"Good. Fine." Sherlock flatly spoke, waving him off.

"I think a big 'thank you, Céline, I'm sorry for being a self-righteous git' from you is in order!" Watson snapped again. Sherlock sent him a look.

"This symbol I still can't place it. I want you to go to the police station. Ask for Céline again. All his personal effects will be impounded. Get hold of a diary or something that will tell us his movements." Sherlock snapped, ignoring his question. He ran outside. Watson followed. "I'll go and see Van Coon's PA. If we can retrace their steps, somewhere they're going to coincide."


	10. The Blind Banker 5

Sherlock took off down the street to go and see Van Coon's assistant. Watson watched him go and rolled his eyes before hailing a cab. He noticed a woman taking a photograph of him as the cab pulled over. He nervously got into the cab.

"Scotland Yard, please." He asked. The taxi driver nodded and took off. Watson turned to look at the woman who snapped the photo and saw she was gone.

* * *

"Flew back from Dalian Friday. Looks like he had back-to-back meetings with the sales team." Van Coon's assistant explained to Sherlock. Sherlock perked an eyebrow.

"Can you print me up a copy?" He asked.

"Sure." She replied. The printer began to warm up. Sherlock's eye wandered across the dates on his calendar.

"What about the day he died? Can you tell me where he was?" Sherlock asked as they waited for the printer. The woman nodded and scrolled over. The date was empty. Sherlock frowned.

"Sorry. Bit of a gap." The woman shrugged. "I have all his receipts?" She suggested.

"Let me take a look at those," Sherlock asked.

* * *

Céline and Watson were standing at her desk. She had returned to Scotland Yard when he texted her, asking for her help. There was a box of Brian Lukis's possessions sitting between them. Céline was digging for Lukis's diary as Watson watched.

"I've been asking him to apologize. Has he?" Watson asked. Céline shook her head.

"Not a word." She replied, annoyed. Watson frowned and scoffed. "Honestly, I don't understand him." She continued.

"Me either." Watson agreed.

"Mycroft picked me up for lunch earlier," Céline spoke up. Watson looked surprised.

"Why?" Watson asked. He hadn't seen Mycroft since their first meeting. Céline shrugged.

"To talk about it. Apparently, he thinks Sherlock just can't stand the thought of another man in my life because he likes me." Céline explained. She didn't really believe him. She was still in denial about Sherlock's feelings. Watson noticed.

"Well, it's pretty obvious that's why," Watson suggested. Céline froze from rummaging around the box and looked up at him. Crossing her arms.

"Do you really think so?" She asked. Watson nodded. She sighed and went back to digging through the box for the diary.

"How do you feel about him?" Watson asked. Céline chuckled.

"Mycroft asked me the same thing." She explained before trailing off. "To be honest with you, I don't know. I guess I never thought of him that way so, I'm still trying to figure out how I feel." She found the diary and passed it to John. "Is this it?" Watson nodded, flipping through it.

"It is." He spoke. Céline watched as he flipped through. There was a boarding pass being used as a bookmark. It was from Dalian DLC to London LHR on Zhuang Airlines. Watson and Céline exchanged confused glances.

* * *

"What kind of a boss was he? Appreciative?" Sherlock asked as he looked through Van Coon's receipts. He had noticed that she had multiple gifts from him around her office.

"Um, no. That's not a word I'd use. The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price tag." The assistant answered. Sherlock looked up at her.

"Like that hand cream. He bought that for you, didn't he?" He flatly asked, surprising her. She was having an affair with him. Like Céline had been with Lestrade. Sherlock noticed a receipt from a taxi for the day he died and changed the subject. "Look at this one. Got a taxi from home on the day he died. Eighteen pounds fifty."

"That would get him to the office." The assistant shrugged. Sherlock shook his head.

"Not rush hour, check the time. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as…" Sherlock began.

"The West End. I remember him saying." She finished. He also finds a ticket with the same date from Piccadilly.

"Underground. Printed at one in Piccadilly." Sherlock observed.

"So he got a Tube back to the office. Why would he get a taxi into town and then the Tube back?" She asked, confused.

"Because he was delivering something heavy. Didn't want to lug a package up the escalator." Sherlock explained. The woman's face curled up in confusion.

"Delivering?" She asked. Sherlock found a final receipt from a lunch spot.

"To somewhere near Piccadilly Station. Dropped the package, delivered it and then stopped on his way. He got peckish." Sherlock explained. He quickly stood and thanked her before leaving. He texted Watson.

 _Meet me at the espresso bar in Piccadilly._

* * *

Watson got the text message as he and Céline were about to leave Scotland Yard.

"He wants me to meet him in Piccadilly. He went to talk to Van Coon's assistant." Watson explained. "Do you want to come?" He asked. Céline thought for a second and nodded.

"Sure, I'll come." She nodded. They took a taxi and found Sherlock pacing outside the espresso bar. Céline suddenly felt really nervous. Watson approached.

"So you bought your lunch from here en route to the station, but where were you headed from? Where did the taxi drop you?" Sherlock asked himself. Watson cleared his throat, making Sherlock jump. He looked from Watson to Céline and quickly looked back to Watson.

"Right," Watson spoke. Sherlock and Céline both cleared their throats nervously. Sherlock quickly tried to fill the silence.

"Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died. Whatever was hidden inside that case. I've managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information…" As Sherlock spoke Watson glanced down at the diary than to a shop right across the road in Chinatown.

"Sherlock." Watson began. Sherlock kept talking. He was so nervous that he didn't hear Watson.

"…credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China, then he came here. Somewhere in this street, somewhere near. I don't know where, but…" He continued. Céline noticed Watson trying to point something out to Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" Céline snapped. Sherlock froze and looked at her expectantly. "Watson is trying to say something." Sherlock looked at Watson. Watson pointed toward the shop across the street.

"That shop over there," Watson observed. Sherlock looked at the shop and grimaced.

"How can you tell?" He asked, not convinced.

"Lukis' diary," Watson observed. "He was here too. He wrote down the address." Watson grabbed Céline's arm and led her toward the shop. Sherlock frowned and followed. The shop was touristy and filled with various trinkets and cat statues.

"Hello." Céline smiled at the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper lifted a cat from her desk.

"Miss, do you want a lucky cat?" The shopkeeper asked. Céline shook her head. Sherlock lingered behind her as Watson went to look around the store.

"No thank you." Céline declined. The shopkeeper looked from Céline to Sherlock.

"Only ten pounds." The shopkeeper explained.

"No, thank you, but no." Céline declined again. The shopkeeper looked over to Sherlock.

"You should buy it for your wife. She will like it!" As the shopkeeper spoke she gestured to Céline. Sherlock turned bright red and stormed away into the shop. Céline nervously laughed.

"Sherlock? Céline?" Watson called from the back of the store. Céline smiled at the shopkeeper before going over to Watson with Sherlock. There was a symbol he showed them underneath a teacup, it was the same one that had been painted in the bank. "The label," Watson spoke.

"Yes, I see it." Sherlock frowned.

"Exactly the same as the cipher." Watson quietly spoke. Sherlock led the group out. "It's an ancient number system! Hangzhou." Sherlock explained. "These days, only street traders use it. Those were numbers written on the wall at the bank and at the library. Numbers are written in an ancient Chinese dialect." Watson and Sherlock checked the symbol against a number chart on Sherlock's phone.

"It's a fifteen! What we thought was the artist's tag it's a number fifteen." He exclaimed. Céline watched the two men.

"And the blindfold, the horizontal line? That was a number as well." Sherlock observed. "The Chinese number one, John."

"We've found it!" Watson excitedly spoke. As the three of them went to leave to the expresso bar Watson noticed the woman who took a photo of him again. Before he could point her out she disappeared into a crowd.

* * *

About an hour later it was late afternoon and the three were staking out the tourist shop at the espresso bar. Céline was sipping from a cappuccino. Sherlock sat closely beside her silently. Watson was eating.

"So two men travel back from China. They both head straight for the Lucky Cat Emporium. What do they see?" Céline asked.

"It's not what they see, it's what they both bring back in those suitcases," Sherlock suggested. Watson looked at both of them.

"And you don't mean duty-free." Watson quipped. Céline giggled and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Watson, think about what Sebastian told us, about Van Coon about how he stayed afloat in the market," Sherlock spoke.

"Lost five million made it back in a week," Watson remembered. Céline perked an eyebrow.

"That's how he made such easy money," Sherlock observed.

"So he was a smuggler?" Céline asked. "Him and Lukis?" Sherlock nodded.

"Two guys like them, it would have been perfect," Sherlock spoke.

"A businessman making frequent trips to Asia, and a journalist writing about China…" Céline observed.

"Both of them smuggled stuff out, and the Lucky Cat was their drop-off." Sherlock nodded. Céline frowned.

"But why did they die? I mean, it doesn't make sense." She asked, looking to Sherlock. Watson nodded.

"You're right, if they both turn up at the shop and deliver the goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event, after they'd finished the job?" Watson agreed. The two watched Sherlock as he sat back for a few moments. He smirked and grabbed Céline's arm to make sure he had her attention.

"What if one of them was light-fingered?" Sherlock suggested to her. Céline perked up.

"And stole something from the loot?" Céline nodded.

"And the killer doesn't know which of them took it, so he threatens them both." Sherlock agreed. Watson watched them and smiled. Suddenly Sherlock got distracted by something outside.

"Remind me when was the last time that it rained?" He asked before getting up and leaving. Céline quickly jumped up after him and Watson exasperatedly followed, leaving his meal behind. Sherlock knelt by a directory on the foot of a flat complex. "It's been here since Monday," Sherlock observed as Céline walked up. Céline frowned and looked at the doorbells of the flat. She pressed one for Soo Lin Yao. Her and Sherlock waited for a reply. Watson walked up behind them.

"No one's been in that flat for at least three days," Sherlock observed to Céline.

"Could've gone on holiday?" Watson suggested. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Do you leave your windows open when you go on holiday?" Sherlock asked. Watson frowned. "I'm going up." Watson and Céline watched and stayed behind as Sherlock climbed the fire escape to get into the apartment. When Sherlock got into the apartment he almost knocked down a vase. But he caught it before it fell. He saw a small wet spot on the rug where the vase would have fallen.

"Someone else has been here…" He observed to himself. "Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase just like I did." He looked around. Céline and Watson returned to the front door and Watson was pressing the doorbell over and over again.

"Do you think maybe you could let us in this time?" Watson shouted. "Céline and I are still down here!" After a few more minutes of yelling, Céline laughed.

"Give it a rest." She laughed. Watson frowned. What Céline and Watson didn't know was that Sherlock was struggling with the attacker that had snuck into the apartment to kill Soo Lin.

"No, I'm Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no-one else can compete with my MASSIVE INTELLECT!" Watson shouted. A few seconds later Sherlock emerged from the apartment. He stumbled around, his voice raspy.

"Somebody?" Watson asked. Sherlock nodded.

"Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her." Sherlock spoke. Céline handed him a note she had picked up off the ground.

"We can start here." She suggested. Sherlock looked at the note it was on an envelope for the National Antiquities Museum.

 _SOO LIN_

 _Please ring me and tell me you're OK_

 _Andy_


	11. The Blind Banker 6

Céline walked around the room as Sherlock questioned Andy. They had just gotten to the museum from Soo Lin Yao's house.

"When was the last time that you saw her?" Sherlock asked. Céline noticed a door to the supply closet slightly ajar.

"Three days ago, here at the museum." Andy replied, "This morning they told me she'd resigned just like that." Sherlock frowned. Andy gestured to the teapots Soo Lin would take care of. "Just left her work unfinished."

"What was the last thing that she did on her final afternoon?" Sherlock asked. Andy thought for a moment and led Sherlock and Watson down to the archives. Céline stayed back but regretted it. She got a strange feeling like she was being watched. When Sherlock and Watson returned they headed out. Céline noticed that when they left the door to the supply closet had mysteriously shut. She made a mental note about it.

* * *

When they got outside it was dark. Céline was still a little spooked from the events at the museum. Sherlock got a text from Raz.

"Raz found something," Sherlock spoke to Watson. Watson nodded. He looked to Céline as Sherlock hailed a cab.

"Would you like to come with us?" Watson asked. Céline shook her head. Her stomach was grumbling.

"I think I may stay back here to get some food," Céline replied. Sherlock frowned.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked. "I…I'd like for you to come along…" Céline blushed a bit.

"Just text me if you need me." She smiled before heading to a restaurant across the street from the museum. Watson watched Sherlock. When they got into the taxi Watson crossed his arms.

"Don't say anything." Sherlock snapped as Watson opened his mouth to speak.

"Sherlock, just apologize. For god's sake." Watson rolled his eyes.

* * *

W hen Sherlock and Watson met with Raz they uncovered three more markings. One, at a skatepark. One, at the railway station. And, the final, on a railway track. Both men quickly returned to 221b Baker Street. Sherlock printed up photographs of the new symbols and added them to the others on the mirror. He studied them for a moment.

"Always in pairs, John." Sherlock frowned. Watson watched him. "Numbers come with partners."

"God, I need to sleep." Watson yawned.

"Why did he paint it so near the tracks?" Sherlock asked, ignoring his statement.

"No idea." Watson shrugged.

"Thousands of people pass by there every day." Sherlock continued. "He must want information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back. Somewhere here in the code. We can't crack this without Soo Lin Yao." Sherlock took out his phone, thinking of what to text Céline.

* * *

Céline enjoyed a leisurely meal. Her seat was near the window and she watched the Museum from her seat. She watched the building as she ate. All the employees closed up for the night and left. However, as she was getting up to leave she saw it. In a bottom floor window beside the giant staircase to the main entrance. The window to the area where the display room was. A single light flickered on, clearly from a lamp. Whoever was inside didn't want to be seen. Céline frowned and picked up her phone. She had a text from Sherlock, she had muted him during their fight so she had not heard the ringer. It read.

 _We need to find Soo Lin Yao._

Céline thought about the message and got a feeling. She thought about what Andy said at the museum and her strange feelings that kept popping up at the museum. She suddenly realized and texted Sherlock back.

 _Meet me out front of the museum. Maybe she never left?_

* * *

Sherlock and Watson were there in 10 minutes. They snuck in a backdoor for janitors after Sherlock picked the lock. Sherlock agreed to go in first, Watson and Céline in tow. Sherlock wandered down the hall quietly. As he approached the display room he saw her, Soo Lin Yao. She was pouring tea over a teapot. He quietly snuck behind her.

"Fancy a biscuit with that?" He sarcastically asked. Soo Lin jumped, knocking the teapot off the table. Sherlock quickly caught it. "Centuries old. Don't wanna break that."

* * *

A few minutes later after Watson and Céline joined they were all sitting at a table in the small display room. Céline had explained they were working with the police but that she was not in trouble. Sherlock had explained everything about the case and how they needed her help.

"You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me." Soo Lin spoke, panic in her voice.

"You've been clever avoiding him so far." Céline spoke, touching her shoulder to calm her down. Soo Lin smiled at her.

"I had to finish, to finish this work. It's only a matter of time. But, I know he will find me." Soo Lin explained.

"Who is he? Have you met him before?" Sherlock asked.

"When I was a girl, living back in China. I recognize his signature…" Soo Lin explained. "Only he would do this. Zhi Zhu."

"Zhi Zhu?" Watson asked.

"The Spider," Sherlock observed. Soo Lin suddenly took her shoe and sock off. She showed them a black lotus flower tattoo on the bottom of her foot.

"You know this mark?" Soo Lin asked. Céline nodded.

"Yes. It's a Tong marking." Céline observed. Watson gave Sherlock a confused glance.

"Ancient crime syndicate based in China," Sherlock explained to him.

"Every foot soldier bears the mark; everyone who hauls for them." Soo Lin added, speaking to Céline. "I was fifteen. My parents were dead. I had no livelihood, no way of surviving day to day except to work for the bosses. They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of pounds' worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. But I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England. They gave me a job here. Everything was good, a new life."

"Then he came looking for you," Céline observed. Soo Lin nodded.

"I had hoped after five years maybe they would have forgotten me, but they never really let you leave. A small community like ours, they are never very far away. He came to my flat. He asked me to help him to track down something that was stolen." Sherlock nodded, he took a couple photographs from his pocket and passed them to Soo Lin.

"Can you decipher these?" He asked her. Soo Lin looked at them for a minute.

"Well, I would need a book. All the smugglers know it but it's based on a book…" Soo Lin began. As she spoke the lights went out. Soo Lin grabbed Céline's arm in fright. "He's here. Zhi Zhu. He has found me." Sherlock and Céline exchanged glances.

"Go find him," Céline spoke too Sherlock. He nodded and ran off.

"I'll go with him," Watson spoke before running off. Céline and Soo Lin rushed to the storage closet Soo Lin had been hiding in earlier and they both slipped inside.

"It'll be okay," Céline spoke as Soo Lin clung to her.

Sherlock found the intruder, Soo Lin's brother, in no time. However, once Sherlock was spotted Soo Lin's brother began to fire a gun, attempting to hit Sherlock as he made his way to his sister, Soo Lin. Céline heard the gunfire and suddenly felt sick. She tried to hide it. She knew Soo Lin needed her to be there for her. Soo Lin was breathing heavily. They heard more gunfire. Céline was panicked. She hoped Sherlock was alright. Her heart was beating fast and her palms felt sweaty.

"Céline. Maybe I should go out there." Soo Lin spoke up. Céline shook her head.

"You shouldn't." She tried to hold her back. Soo Lin peeked through a crack in the door.

"I do, I have to. I can convince him. I need to see him. Céline, please." Soo Lin begged.

"I…I don't know Soo Lin," Céline admitted. Soo Lin laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Céline you've turned pale. Are you alright?" Soo Lin asked. Céline nodded.

"I'll be fine," Céline spoke, lying. She felt like she was about to pass out. Soo Lin looked back.

"Céline wait here." Soo Lin spoke. She pushed past Céline and came out of their hiding place. Céline couldn't fight her or stop her. The gunshots and the worry rushed through her mind, it made her sick. It was the same as before when she and Sherlock were with the taxi driver. Soo Lin waited in the display room. Waiting for her brother. Céline leaned against the wall, just behind the door frame for support. In the museum, Soo Lin's brother had given Sherlock and Watson the slip. He had disappeared in the commotion and Sherlock and Watson were looking for him once more. After a few moments of silence, Céline heard Soo Lin speak to someone.

"Big brother. Please." Soo Lin spoke. Her brother slowly walked into the room. Céline listened in, she was beginning to feel better. Soo Lin and her brother spoke in Chinese for a short while. Céline watched from the crack in the door. She panicked when the man suddenly raised the gun aiming for Soo Lin. Céline rushed in without thinking.

"Hold it! This is the Scotland Yard!" She attempted to stand strong despite her bad reaction to the triggers. Soo Lin's brother quickly turned his attention to Céline. He was startled and shot twice at her. Soo Lin screamed, both bullets flew past her and hit Céline. Céline fell to her knees and collapsed onto the floor. Her panic at his sudden reaction had made her too slow to get out of the way in time. Soo Lin turned and rushed over to her. Céline had been hit in the shoulder and the chest. Céline immediately went into shock. Soo Lin shouted her name but she couldn't say anything. Sherlock heard the scream and he heard Soo Lin scream Céline 's name. He ran back to the display as fast as he could, leaving Watson behind. Soo Lin's brother quickly aimed his gun at his sister and pulled the trigger but to his dismay, he had run out of bullets. He cursed and quickly disappeared out of the building through the fire exit at the back of the room near the window. Soo Lin began to cry. She didn't know what to do. Céline was seizing up, her whole body was shaking. Sherlock ran in and rushed to them. Soo Lin stood and hurried back as Sherlock cradled Céline in his arms. Watson was still trying to find his way back. He was lost in the maze of the museum. Sherlock raised his phone to pass it over to Soo Lin.

"Soo Lin call an ambulance." She took the phone and nodded. Shakily raising it and dialing. Céline could make out Sherlock's form in the fog created by her panic. She had been hit in the shoulder and the chest. She struggled to breathe. Sherlock cradled Céline in his arms. "Céline? Can you hear me?" She couldn't move her body or speak or reply. She was too scared and frozen up. "Céline. You're going to be okay." He felt her starting to pass out. "Céline, stay with me. It's going to be okay." Sherlock spoke, he took her hand in his and held it tight. Céline tried to reply but couldn't. Her eyes began to flutter closed. As everything went black all she heard was Sherlock begging her to stay alive. She fell limp in his arms.


	12. The Blind Banker 7

Sherlock was sitting in a conference room in Scotland Yard. The had just left the hospital. Céline was currently in surgery. Sherlock had shut down. He was determined to get to the bottom of this. Both to distract him from the trauma of what he had just witnessed with Céline, but so he could find the shooter. Soo Lin was sitting in the conference room with them. Watson and Dimmock were arguing.

"How many murders is it going to take before you start believing this maniac is out there? One of your officers was gunned down tonight, she's in emergency getting surgery right now. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him!" Watson shouted. His face was red and he was angry.

"Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers. A gang called 'The Black Lotus'. Operating right here in London. Under your nose." Sherlock added. Dimmock frowned.

"Can you prove that?" Dimmock snapped. Sherlock pointed at Soo Lin.

"It's true." Soo Lin nervously spoke. Sherlock's phone rang. It was Lestrade. He stood up and took the call leaving them behind in the conference room.

"How is she?" Lestrade asked once Sherlock answered.

"I don't know." Sherlock admitted. "She's in surgery now they're supposed to call me once she gets out."

"I'll try getting there in the morning. I'm trying to get the first flight back." Lestrade spoke.

"Don't bother just tell Dimmock to get his stupid act together. He's being such a nuisance." Sherlock snapped into the phone. Lestrade sigh.

"I can also give him a call. But I mean it, also tell me when the hospital calls." Lestrade spoke.

"Yes of course." Sherlock rolled his eyes. There was an awkward pause and Lestrade began to say goodbye but Sherlock cut him off. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, what?" Lestrade replied. Sherlock suddenly felt nervous.

"Are you and Céline still together?" Sherlock asked. Lestrade seemed taken aback by the question.

"How did you..." Lestrade began.

"Just answer the question." Sherlock cut him off. Eager for the answer. Lestrade crossed his arms.

"Why?" Lestrade asked.

"No reason." Sherlock quickly answered.

"We aren't together anymore. She broke it off." Lestrade sadly answered.

"Did you two sleep together?" Sherlock asked.

"Excuse me!?" Lestrade asked, surprised.

"Just answer the question!?" Sherlock snapped.

"Why are you asking me these things? No, we didn't. She didn't want to." Lestrade answered. Sherlock turned red.

"So you wanted to?" Sherlock asked.

"Look, just tell me what happens once the hospital calls back." Lestrade spoke before hanging up. Sherlock frowned but he didn't have long to react. The hospital called.

"Hello?" Sherlock quickly answered.

"Is this Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The receptionist asked.

"Yes. Is she..." Sherlock began.

"She out of surgery and stable. She should be up in the next half hour." The receptionist replied. Sherlock quickly took off down the stairs leaving Soo Lin and Watson behind. Before they could catch up to him he was in a taxi on the way to the hospital. Soo Lin and Watson decided to try getting ahead with the decoding. After the short drive. Sherlock quickly rushed out of the taxi and ran into emergency.

"Sherlock Holmes I'm here to see Céline Brown." He quickly snapped. The receptionist nodded and gave him directions and he rushed to her room. When he came in she was fast asleep. Her left arm was hooked to various iv's. It was the first time he had seen her without a turtleneck on and the large scar from her confrontation with her father was visible. He pulled a chair close to her bedside and sat in it, watching her for a few moments before gently taking her hand. He ran his thumb along the side of her non-iv'ed hand. She stirred a bit.

"Céline?" He softly asked, hoping she would wake up. She settled and stayed under. "Oh Céline. I don't know if you can hear me but, I'm sorry. I...I shouldn't have acted like such a selfish git. I just...I couldn't bear the thought. Of you with another man." He took a deep breath. "I'm not used to this. I've never felt this way about anyone. I...I'm scared." Céline stirred again.

"Sherlock?" She softly spoke. Sherlock stood and gently touched her face.

"Céline?" He smiled. Happy she was okay. Céline had heard the last bit of what he said but she had not heard anything else.

"What are you scared of?" She softly asked, still waking up. She leaned into his hand.

"I..." Sherlock was suddenly afraid again. "Just...the thought that I might lose you." Céline blushed and brought her non-iv'ed hand to his face.

"It's alright Sherlock, I'm okay." She softly spoke. There was a long pause as the two held each other.

"Céline. I'm sorry." Sherlock suddenly blurted out. "I had no right to treat you the way I did." Céline started at him in surprise. She smiled. This made Sherlock blush.

"I forgive you." She smiled, softly kissing his hand. Sherlock blushed deeper. "Sherlock you're blushing." Céline observed.

"It's stress. I'm not nervous." Sherlock lied. Céline watched him.

"Sherlock?" She asked. "I think there is something on your face. Come here." He leaned in, expecting Céline to wipe off a crumb of something but Céline's hand took his neck and she brought their lips together. Sherlock was taken aback at first but his mind soon melted in the moment. His eyes fluttered shut and he kissed back. Their lips stayed locked for a long moment. Sherlock lost himself and it excited and frightened him. His mind was quiet and he could only focus on the softness of her lips and the peppermint taste of her mouth. When she pulled away he stumbled back. Touching his lips. Céline watched him, waiting for a reply. His entire face was now flushed a bright red. Sherlock felt his heart beating fast. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. He didn't know what to do and he turned and ran out of the room.


	13. The Blind Banker 8

After what felt like forever we are finally done with The Blind Banker puddin's! I am so happy with how this is going and I can't wait for you all to see what is in store for The Great Game! Please follow/fav/review and let me know what you think! xoxo

* * *

Sherlock rushed back to 221b Baker Street. He decided to walk to calm his nerves. He couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. When he came into the apartment Soo Lin and Watson were at work deciphering the code. Sherlock didn't acknowledge them. Watson watched him, Sherlock looked out of it.

"How is she?" Watson asked. Sherlock jumped, he was so lost in thought that he didn't notice they were in the room.

"Oh, Céline? Yes…Yes. She's fine." Sherlock replied dreamily. Watson perked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"What happened?" Watson asked, a smirk crossing his lips.

"Nothing. Nothing happened." Sherlock lied, trying to stifle a smile. Watson laughed.

"You apologized?" He asked. Sherlock nodded.

"Yeah…Yeah…I'm going to start a pot of coffee." Sherlock spoke, wandering over to the kitchen. Soo Lin and Watson exchanged a glance before going back to the cipher. Soo Lin was looking at a book, the "A to Z Guide to London". Watson had offered for her to stay in his bedroom while they were figuring everything out so she was safe and she was going to see the Scotland Yard the next day. Watson also had a date the next evening with a woman named Sarah from his second job at the doctor's office. Sherlock returned a couple of minutes later. He was drinking straight from the pot of coffee. He also had put on two nicotine patches to get his mind together and focused.

"Soo Lin's almost finished," Watson spoke. Sherlock perked up.

"With the code!?" Sherlock excitedly spoke, his mind finally snapping back to the case. Soo Lin nodded.

"See here. Each pair of numbers refers to a different street. Nine Elms Lane, Mill Hill, Fore Street, Jade close, Pin street, Dragon Road, Den Close, Black Acre Close, and Tramway Avenue." Soo Lin spoke. She showed Sherlock the page she had written the code out on. She had underlined the first word of the street.

"Nine mill for jade pin. Dragon den black tramway…" Sherlock read. He and Céline were right, one of them did steal something. "But that's not really a threat…"

"Wait…" Soo Lin spoke. "I have one more. Page fifteen. Entry one."

"Page fifteen entry one," Sherlock repeated. Soo Lin wrote out the name of the road. It was Deadman lane.

"Deadman." Soo Lin softly spoke.

"Deadman," Sherlock repeated.

* * *

The next morning Watson woke early and went to work. In the afternoon Soo Lin went to Scotland Yard to be interviewed by Dimmock for the other two murders. They were hoping that she could help them get a new lead. Sherlock paced in his room all day. He had been also trying to find a new lead so he could find him, Soo Lin's brother. The one who shot Céline. He decided to take a walk around the train station and that's when he found it the poster for The Yellow Dragon Circus. He decided that it was a good lead to follow and that it matched the description of a "killer who could climb". He quickly returned home to wait for Watson. When Watson got home Sherlock jumped up.

"I need to get some air to the brain. We're going out tonight." Sherlock demanded, retrieving his coat. Watson rolled his eyes

"Actually, I've got a date," Watson spoke.

"What?" Sherlock asked, surprised. Watson crossed his arms.

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun. Maybe now that you and Céline have made up you can take her out on one." Watson snapped. As he spoke Sherlock retrieved his wallet. He ignored the Céline comment.

"Where are you taking her?" Sherlock asked.

"Cinema," Watson replied. Sherlock grimaced as he retrieved the piece of a poster he peeled off the wall in the railway.

"Hardly original. What about this?" Sherlock spoke, passing Watson the scrap. "In London for one night only."

"Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice." Watson retorted, trying to pass Sherlock back the scrap. Sherlock pushed it into his hands.

"I already called the box office." Sherlock pressed. "You have to go. Tell me how it goes. Soo Lin should be back later this evening. She's over at Scotland Yard." Watson sighed and texted Sarah the change of plans.

* * *

"It's been years since anyone took me to the circus," Sarah spoke as she and Watson briskly walked to the address. Watson stuck his hands in his pockets.

"A friend recommended it to me. He phoned up." Watson lied.

"Is it a touring company or something?" Sarah curiously asked. Watson shrugged.

"I don't know much about it," Watson replied. When they got the venue Sarah gasped in awe.

"I think it's probably from China." She observed. They went to the box office.

"I've got two reserved for tonight," Watson spoke to the manager.

"What name is it?" The box office manager asked.

"…Holmes." Watson spoke. The manager thumbed through some tickets.

"Actually, I have three in that name." The manager spoke as he passed Watson the tickets. Watson frowned.

"Oh, no. I think that's an error. He booked two…" Watson began.

"And then I phoned back and got one for me as well." A voice spoke from behind the queen. Sarah jumped and turned as Sherlock smiled and Watson gritted his teeth. Sherlock offered a hand to Sarah. "I'm Sherlock."

* * *

A couple of minutes later Sherlock and Watson were arguing in front of the woman's loo as Sarah was touching up her makeup inside.

"You couldn't let me have one night off?" Watson snapped. Sherlock didn't understand.

"The Yellow Dragon Circus! One day they're in London. It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to England…" Sherlock began.

"Dressed up as a tight rope walker! Come on, Sherlock. Behave!" Watson cut in, scolding him.

"A killer who can climb! Who can shin up a rope! Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They'd need some reason to get out of the country, wouldn't they? I just need to have a little look round the place…" Sherlock spoke, ignoring Watson's scolding. Watson crossed his arms.

"Fine. You go ahead. I'll take Sarah off for a pint." Watson shrugged. Sherlock gave him a look of annoyance.

"I need your help," Sherlock spoke. "I called the hospital Céline won't be out until tomorrow afternoon so I couldn't bring her." Watson rubbed his eyes. He was getting flustered.

"Look, I do have one or two other things on my mind this evening," Watson spoke, under his breath. Sherlock didn't understand.

"Like what?" Sherlock asked. Watson just gave him a disbelieving look.

"You are kidding?" Watson snapped. "After all the stuff that just happened with you and Céline."

"What's so important right now that you can't help me?" Sherlock snapped. Watson took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Sherlock. I'm right in the middle of a date. You want me to accost some killer whilst I'm trying to…" Watson trailed off, hoping he would understand. Sherlock watched him with a blank look.

"While what?" Sherlock asked. Watson frowned.

"Whilst I'm trying to get off with Sarah!" Watson snapped. Before Sherlock could reply Sarah emerged from the loo and smiled at the two of them. "Ready?" Watson squeaked, offering his arm.

* * *

Céline was bored. She was absentmindedly flipping through channels in the hospital. She looked over at her phone on the side table and grabbed it. No messages. She frowned. What if she was wrong and he didn't have feelings for her and she just freaked him out? She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"Knock knock." A voice spoke from the door. She looked over and saw Mycroft.

"Mycroft? What a surprise." She chuckled. He strolled in, setting a bouquet of flowers on her side table.

"I came as soon as I heard." He replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Confused." Céline replied as Mycroft sat in the stray chair Sherlock left beside her hospital bed.

"When can you leave?" Mycroft asked.

"Tomorrow afternoon is my checkout." She replied.

"Has he come by?" Mycroft asked. Céline was quiet for a second.

"He did. He was here when I woke up after surgery." She explained. Mycroft watched her.

"And?" He asked.

"Since when did you become my wing woman?" Céline laughed, blushing.

"So something did happen," Mycroft observed. Céline crossed her arms.

"I kissed him and he ran right out of the room like a dog with a tail between its legs," Céline replied. Mycroft laughed.

"I have to say I didn't expect him to react so poorly." Mycroft shook his head, facepalming.

"You're telling me." Céline retorted.

* * *

Sherlock, Watson, and Sarah were at the Scotland Yard after the circus. Sherlock had snuck backstage and found the same yellow paint and the same lotus markings as the one Soo Lin showed them. Soo Lin and Dimmock were there with them. Soo Lin was surprised they had gone to the circus. She was certain it was the one her brother performed in.

"I sent a couple of cars. The old music hall is totally deserted." Dimmock spoke.

"Look... I saw the mark at the theatre. The tattoo we saw on the bodies. The mark of the Tong."

"It's true, the circus is a cover-up." Soo Lin spoke. "To bring my brother to the states."

"They were part of a smuggling operation. One of them stole something - when he was in China. Something valuable." Watson continued.

"The circus performers, they must have been sent here to get it back." Soo Lin explained to Dimmock. He sighed.

"Get what back?" Dimmock asked.

"A jade pin." Soo Lin replied.

"A jade pin?" Dimmock frowned, he rubbed his eyes. "Mr. Holmes, I've done everything you asked. Lestrade and Céline, they seem to think your advice is worth something. I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have something to show for it. Other than a massive bill for overtime." Dimmock spoke. Everyone was silent. Soo Lin walked them out. She decided to stay with Dimmock until the case was over for safety.

"They'll be back in China by tomorrow." Watson sigh as they rode down the elevator. Soo Lin shook her head.

"They won't leave. Not without finding what they came for." She explained. Sherlock nodded in agreement. The elevator doors opened. "Sherlock, I would go back to the cipher. Maybe the tramway is a place to check next." And with that Sherlock, Sarah, and Watson left Scotland Yard. Sherlock decided to break off from Sarah and Watson and head to the tramway to look around and Watson and Sarah returned to 221b Baker Street to order dinner. They both decided to eat on trays when the doorbell rang.

"That was fast," Watson spoke, kissing Sarah's cheek. He hurried down the stairs and answered, thinking it was the food they ordered.

'Sorry to keep you. How much is it again?" Watson asked, opening his wallet. He didn't notice that the man standing there is Soo Lin's brother.

"Do you have it?" The man spoke. Watson looked up in surprise at his tone.

"What?" Watson asked.

"Do you have the pin?" The man asked. Before Watson could say anything the man pulled out a revolver and smacked it against Watson's head, knocking him out cold. The man quickly kidnapped both Watson and Sarah before Sherlock made it home. When Sherlock got home he rushed up the steps.

"I didn't find anything else." He spoke to Watson. Once he opened the door and saw the flat empty he frowned before noticing it. A large death cipher had been spray painted in bright yellow paint on the wall of evidence. Sherlock's face fell and he quickly rushed out, scrambling to text both Soo Lin and Dimmock.

* * *

Watson and Sarah both woke up back at the circus. They were both tied up and Watson soon found out that the circus performers had assumed that he was Sherlock. The only light in the room was a large fire in a brazier. Watson began to panic as the performers set up an Ancient Chinese escapology act with a crossbow and a sandbag. They placed Sarah right in the range of the crossbow before cutting the sandbag that would set the crossbow off once it was empty. Watson couldn't tell them where the pin was and he couldn't free himself from his own bonds to help Sarah. The sandbag continued to slowly empty.

"Ladies and gentleman, from the distant moonlit shores we present, for your pleasure, Sherlock Holmes' pretty companion, in a death-defying act." One of the performers shouted out into the air.

"Please…stop! I'm not Holmes!" Watson begged. The performer slowly wandered over to Sarah. Placing an origami black lotus flower on her lap. She ignored Watson's begging.

"You've seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends." She spoke. Sarah was crying.

"I'm not Holmes." Watson continued to protest.

"I don't believe you!" The performer shouted. Sherlock suddenly barged in. He had found them.

"You should, you know. Sherlock Holmes is a great deal more pompous. With a 'U'. And a great deal more...what was the word, John?" Sherlock snapped.

"Late." Watson thankfully spoke. Sherlock moved to get Sarah out of the way of the crossbow but the performer pulled out a gun. Sherlock froze and studied the gun.

"That's a semi-automatic. You fire it, the bullet will travel at a thousand meters per second." Sherlock observed. The performer frowned.

"Well?" She snapped.

"Well, these walls have a radius of curvature of nearly four meters. If you miss then the bullet will ricochet." Sherlock speaks, the performer quickly glanced at the walls then back to Sherlock. "Who knows where? You could hit anyone. The bullet could bounce around the tunnel and hit you. It'd be a shame…"

"I have no intention of missing." The performer spoke. Before they could shoot Sherlock quickly kicked over the brazier, extinguishing the fire that was just lit. The performer fired and the bullet bounced off the walls. Sarah screamed and Watson threw himself over and began pushing himself toward the sandbag contraption. Soo Lin's brother quickly dropped into the fight, determined to kill Sherlock. He retrieved a long length of silk and pulled it around Sherlock's neck. He fell backward and tied the silk around Sherlock's neck twice before beginning to pull, choking him. Sherlock fell to his knees but continued to struggle. He couldn't die now. He thought of Céline and continued to try and fight him off. He had to stay alive, for her. Watson began trying to kick down the sandbag contraption, trying to keep it from firing. Sarah also struggled to get out of the chair. Sherlock and Soo Lin's brother struggled inches from where Sarah sat. Soon Watson toppled the contraption and the crossbow fired. In the struggle, Soo Lin's brother had unknowingly stepped right into the range of the shot. The crossbow hit him right in the middle of the chest and he immediately toppled over releasing Sherlock. The other female performer fled. Sherlock gasped for air before running over to Sarah then Watson to untie them both. Sarah rushed into Watson's arms. A few minutes later the Scotland Yard was there. Soo Lin was with them. Dimmock and Soo Lin had just finished speaking with Sherlock and Watson.

"We'll just slip off. No need to mention us in the report." Sherlock shrugged. Dimmock stopped him.

"Mr. Holmes…I…" He began.

"I have high hopes for you, Inspector. A glittering career." Sherlock spoke. "And you Soo Lin. I hope you are able to return to your work."

"I will." Soo Lin smiled. With that Sherlock left. Watson waited for Sarah and walked her home. When Watson got home Sherlock was staring at the evidence on the wall.

"I have an engagement tomorrow afternoon and I was wondering if you could visit this woman for me," Sherlock spoke, passing him the name of Van Coon's personal assistant. "You may also want to pick up the second check from Sebastian. Tell him he can nail a plank across the balcony window and his problems are solved."

"Sure but why visit Van Coon's personal assistant?" Watson asked, sitting on the couch.

"That jade pin. It was stolen." Sherlock spoke. "And I think she might know who has it…"

* * *

The next afternoon Mycroft dropped Céline off at her flat when she was discharged from the hospital. She thanked him.

"Céline before you go." Mycroft stopped her. "I'm sure my brother will come around. I mean it when I say he fancies you." He explained. "Besides, you're the only woman I trust to be with him." She smiled and nodded.

"Thank you, Mycroft." She replied. He nodded and she got out, heading inside. The hospital had given her clothes to wear home. It was a pair of black sweatpants and a black tee shirt. When Céline got to her flat she noticed the door was unlocked. She smiled.

"I thought I'd never see you again after you ran out on me," Céline spoke as she walked in, teasing Sherlock. Sherlock quickly stood up.

"You merely caught me off guard." Sherlock sheepishly spoke. Céline took off her shoes. What neither of them noticed was that a cameraman was sitting and watching them through binoculars in the building beside Céline's flat.

"Ahh! I caught you off guard." She repeated. Sherlock watched her with a close eye.

"You know I'd really make a terrible partner," Sherlock spoke, standing awkwardly beside the couch. Céline went over to him and stood right in front of him.

"Oh, you would?" She smiled. Sherlock blushed a bit.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking..." Sherlock began.

"I like the violin," Céline replied.

"Sometimes I don't talk for days on end." Sherlock quickly responded, stepping a bit closer to her.

"I like peace and quiet," Céline replied, also moving a bit closer to him. Their eyes were locked onto each other.

"I get terribly jealous," Sherlock spoke. "And I can really be quite rude."

"Well, I figured those out." Céline giggled. Sherlock looked at his feet and after a long pause, he spoke.

"Céline, can I kiss you?" He asked. The person watching from the other building prepared a camera. Céline nodded. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist and moved closer. Céline could feel his breath on her lips. "Say it."

"Sherlock, kiss me." Céline quickly spoke. And he did. The person across the way snapped photos of the two as they kissed and then disappeared.


	14. The Great Game 1

Hello, puddin's! I have been so sick all week and I'm spending my third day at home in bed. I decided to try and write a ton today so you all get THREE chapters! Xoxo

* * *

About a month had passed since Sherlock and Céline began their relationship. They had both decided to keep it a secret from everyone. The only person who knew was Mycroft. In addition, they had both decided to take things slow, they hadn't made love or gotten close to anything like it. Sherlock would stay over at Céline's much more often but they wouldn't do anything past kissing and holding each other. This night was no different. Sherlock and Céline were laying in bed. Her head was against his chest and he was gently rubbing her back. He felt comfortable with her. Lately, he had been feeling bored, there hadn't been another case like the last in a long time. But being with Céline always calmed him down.

"What time is your flight?" She asked.

"To Belarus? It's at 4 am. Mycroft loves to torment me." Sherlock replied. She giggled.

"We had better go to bed." Céline yawned. Sherlock frowned and nuzzled into her.

"Céline, I hope this case isn't boring." He sighed. "I'm going crazy."

"Another case is bound to come up soon," Céline spoke, playing with his hair and closing her eyes. Sherlock watched her as she drifted to sleep. At 2 am he got up and kissed her cheek before going to the airport. By 9 am he was at his location. It was an assembly room in a big prison. Sherlock was exhausted, he sat across a man wearing a jumpsuit. There was a prison guard at the door.

"Just tell me what happened. From the beginning." Sherlock spoke, eager to finish up and get back to Céline. He could tell this case wasn't going to stifle his boredom from the second he landed.

"We'd been to a bar. Nice place. I got chatting to one of the waitresses and Karen weren't happy. So when we got back to the hotel we ended up having a ding-dong, didn't we? She was always getting at me. Saying I weren't a real man." The man spoke. Sherlock felt the hairs on his neck stand up in annoyance.

"I wasn't a real man," Sherlock corrected. The prisoner stared at him, tilting his head in confusion.

"What?" The prisoner asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It's not weren't, it's wasn't." Sherlock snapped. "Go on."

"Well, I dunno how but suddenly there was a knife in me hands. Me Dad was a butcher so I know how to handle knives. He learned us how to cut up a beast…" The prisoner spoke. Sherlock scoffed again, crossing his arms. The prisoner frowned. "What?"

"He taught you how to cut up a beast." Sherlock corrected again. This time the prisoner ignored him.

"Yeah. Well. Then I done it." He spoke, beginning to get upset.

"Did it." Sherlock corrected.

"Did it. Stabbed her! Over and over! And I looked down and she weren't moving no more. God help me. I don't know how it happened but it was an accident. I swear it!" As he spoke the prisoner began to sob. Sherlock turned and nodded to the guard at the door. The prisoner suddenly began to beg as Sherlock stood to leave. "Look, you've gotta help me, Mr. Holmes. Everyone says you're the best. Without you, I'll get hung for this!"

"No, no, no Mr. Bewick. Not at all." Sherlock coyly snapped. "Hanged, yes." He corrected before leaving. He quickly flew back to London. When he returned it was almost 2 pm. Céline was at work so he couldn't go bother her for a game of chess so he begrudgingly trotted home. He showered and pulled on his plaid robe before pacing the front room. After twenty minutes of pacing, he painted a large smiley face onto the wall. After twenty more minutes of pacing, he took a gun he had on the mantelpiece and fired three gunshots into the mouth and eyes of the smiley face. Watson immediately stormed in from his room, clutching his head.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?!" Watson shouted. He had been nursing a headache from a night out pub crawling and the gunshots weren't helping.

"Bored." Sherlock snapped.

"What!?" Watson shouted again.

"Bored. I don't know what's got into the criminal classes. I had a terrible morning in Belarus." Sherlock explained.

"So you take it out on the wall?" Watson asked in disbelief.

"The wall had it coming." Sherlock snapped at him. Watson went into the kitchen.

"So what was wrong with the Belarus case?" Watson asked.

"Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time." Sherlock replied. He sat at the table and began to look at Watson's laptop. "I see you've written up the Taxi Driver case."

"Um...yeah." Watson absentmindedly spoke as he started a pot of coffee.

"'A Study in Pink'. Nice." Sherlock sarcastically spoke. Watson returned with his cup of coffee.

"Well, you know. Pink lady, pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pinks. Did you like it?" Watson asked.

"Er...no." Sherlock cringed, reading.

"Why not? I thought you'd be...flattered." Watson offered, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Flattered!?" Sherlock snapped, offended. He began reading from the blog. "Sherlock sees right through everyone and everything in seconds. What's incredible, though is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things."

"Hang on, I didn't mean…" Watson began to explain himself.

"What, you meant 'spectacularly ignorant' in a nice way? Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister. Or who's sleeping with who!" Sherlock pouted, crossing his arms.

"Or that the earth goes 'round the Sun?" Watson snapped. Sherlock's face curled up in annoyance.

"Oh! That again? It's not important." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Not important! It's primary stuff! How can you not know!?" Watson snapped back.

"If I ever did, I've deleted." Sherlock shrugged.

"Deleted it?" Watson questioned, not believing him.

"What the hell does that matter? So we go around the Sun! If we went 'round the Moon or round and round the garden like a teddy bear it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters is the work. Without it, my brain rots. Put that in your blog. Or, better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world." Sherlock snapped, getting in a grumpy mood. Watson got up to leave.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

"Out!" Watson shouted. "I need some air!" Sherlock frowned and jumped up to go look out the window. He saw Watson leave down the street and checked his watch. He groaned. It was still far too early to go over to see Céline. Mrs. Hudson popped her head in.

"You two had a little...domestic?" She asked. Sherlock frowned.

"Look at that, Mrs. Hudson. Quiet. Calm. Peaceful. Isn't it hateful?" Sherlock observed. Mrs. Hudson patted his shoulder.

"I'm sure something will turn up, a nice murder! That'll cheer you up." She spoke before going back downstairs.

"Can't come too soon," Sherlock shouted after her before going back to pacing. A few moments later he heard a faint tick and then it happened. BOOM. A large explosion broke the windows, shook the walls, and sent Sherlock flying back.


	15. The Great Game 2

Sherlock immediately called Céline to tell her and she rushed over from Scotland Yard. By the time she got there Mycroft was already there, he was standing by the fireplace. Céline rushed in and knelt beside where Sherlock sat, checking him for wounds. He had a large cut on his forehead that had a bandaid thrown over it.

"Are you okay?" Céline asked.

"I'm fine," Sherlock replied. He was watching Mycroft. While he knew Mycroft was aware of their relationship he wouldn't dare show any affection toward Céline in front of anyone.

"Good morning, Mycroft," Céline spoke.

"Good morning Céline….Well, Sherlock? Will you take it?" Mycroft asked, placing his hands in his pockets. Céline stood to look around the apartment for any evidence.

"Take what?" She asked as she began to look around the windows. She saw a firetruck outside and some other investigators looking around outside. The building across the street from 221b Baker Street had been destroyed. Mycroft took a seat in the chair opposite Sherlock.

"Well, he's been complaining about being bored and not having a case. And now, I'm here offering a case and what do I get for my kindness…" Mycroft began.

"You get a big piss off." Sherlock snapped. Céline rolled her eyes at the two and continued looking around the flat to no avail as Mycroft and Sherlock argued about a case. "Look Mycroft I can't." Sherlock protested.

"Can't? Or won't?" Mycroft retorted.

"Sherlock! Are you alright?" Watson shouted as he rushed in.

"It's impossible at the moment," Sherlock answered to Mycroft before turning to Watson. "Hi, John." After he addressed Watson he turned right back to Mycroft.

"Are you ok? I saw it on the TV…" Watson asked.

"What? Oh. Yeah. Gas leak, apparently." Sherlock replied. "Mycroft. The stuff I've got on is too big. I just can't spare the time."

"This is of national importance!" Mycroft asked. He turned to Watson. "Maybe you can get through to him, John."

"What?" Watson asked. Céline decided to take a seat on the couch.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent." Mycroft snapped.

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" Watson asked.

"No, no, no. I can't possibly leave the office for any length of time. Not with the Korean elections so near…" Mycroft began before catching himself. stops. "Yes, well, you don't need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this. It requires legwork. Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you both became pals." Mycroft trailed off and looked around at the flat. "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine?"

"I'm never bored." Watson shrugged.

"Good! That's good, isn't it? He's a real live wire, Sherlock. When we were children, he worked out from the angle of the car seats and a smear of lipstick in the back of the Audi that Dad was having it off with the au pair. I'm afraid Mum wasn't too pleased and that was that. Bang went our happy home. Such a clever boy, but he really should have got his priorities right. Like now. Andrew West. Known as "Westie" to his friends. Civil servant. Found dead on the rails at Battersea station this morning. Head smashed in." Mycroft spoke. Céline perked up.

"Jumped in front of a train?" Watson offered.

"That seems the logical assumption." Mycroft shrugged.

"But?" Watson asked.

"He wouldn't be here if it was an accident or suicide, John," Céline replied from the couch. Sherlock chuckled.

"The Ministry of Defence has been working on a new missile defense system. The Bruce-Partington Program, it's called. And the plans for it were on a memory stick." Mycroft explained.

"That wasn't very clever." Watson perked an eyebrow.

"It's not the only copy. But it is secret. And missing." Mycroft spoke. Watson clasped his hands together.

"Top secret?" Watson asked.

"Very. We think West must've taken the memory stick and we can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands." Mycroft turned his attention back to Sherlock. "You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you." Mycroft snapped. Céline giggled.

"Like to see you try," Sherlock replied. Mycroft stood.

"Think it over." Mycroft snapped before going to shake Watson's hand. "Goodbye, John. See you very soon." Before he went to the door he walked over to Céline and kissed the top of her hand. "I will see you soon as well Céline." And with that, he left. Céline moved to where Mycroft was sitting. Sherlock grabbed his violin and began playing it.

"Oh. Sibling rivalry. Nice. Now we're getting somewhere. Sherlock's got a past!" Watson teased. Sherlock ignored him and continued to play. Céline felt her phone buzz and she checked it. It was Lestrade.

If you're with Sherlock you may want to bring him down to the station.

"Sherlock," Céline spoke, standing. He quickly stopped playing and turned his attention to her.

"Yes?" He asked.

"It's Lestrade. You're being summoned." She spoke. Sherlock smirked, he turned to Watson as he and Céline began to leave.

"Coming?" Sherlock asked him.

"If you want me to." Watson sheepishly spoke. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Of course! I'm lost without my blogger!" Sherlock replied before leading Céline down the stairs.

* * *

Céline, Sherlock, and Watson got to the Scotland Yard in a couple of minutes. Sherlock and Watson quickly went upstairs while Céline grabbed a coffee from downstairs and dropped off her things at her desk. When she joined them she waited at the door.

"You only like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones?" Lestrade asked. Things had been uncomfortable since he and Céline had broken up. Multiple times Lestrade had attempted to get back together with her but she had vaguely explained that she was seeing someone. She was glad it was Sherlock because she didn't have to worry about him accidentally letting the secret slip.

"Obviously," Sherlock responded.

"You're gonna love this…That explosion?" Lestrade began.

"The gas leak?" Sherlock quickly cut him off. Lestrade shook his head and set a box on his desk from the ground. Céline perked an eyebrow.

"Not a gas leak?" Céline asked. Lestrade nodded.

"Made to look like one. Explosives." Lestrade explained.

"What?" Sherlock frowned, turning back to look at Céline.

"Hardly anything left of the place. Except for a strong box. A very strong box. And inside it was this." Lestrade continued, passing Sherlock a manilla envelope, Céline took a step inside the office so she could peek over his shoulder.

Sherlock Holmes was written on the front with a black marker.

"You haven't opened it?" Sherlock asked, hesitant. Lestrade shrugged.

"Addressed to you, isn't it? We've X- rayed it. Not booby-trapped." Lestrade explained. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"How reassuring." Sherlock sarcastically spat before opening the envelope. A pink encased phone fell out onto his lap. Céline and Watson both exchanged a glance.

"But that's…the pink phone…" Watson began.

"From A Study in Pink." Lestrade finished.

"Well it isn't, of course, but it's supposed to look like it…wait…you read his blog?" Sherlock snapped. Lestrade nodded.

"'Course I read his blog, we all do," Lestrade spoke. Sherlock looked back at Céline. She shook her head.

"I don't," Céline reassured Sherlock.

"Do you really not know the Earth goes 'round the Sun?" Lestrade asked. A loud snort was heard from just outside the office. It was Sally Donovan sitting at a desk just outside of Lestrade's office. Sherlock sent her a look before turning back to Lestrade.

"It's not the same phone, this one's brand new. But someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone, which suggests your blog has a wider readership." Sherlock observed as he turned on the phone and punched in the password.

"You have one new message." The phone's voice explained. Sherlock listened for a moment and Céline shut the door to the office. There was a long message comprised of beeps.

"That's it?" Watson asked.

"No, that's not it," Sherlock responded as a photo popped up on the screen. It was an empty flat. Lestrade came around and stood beside Céline to look at the phone and frowned.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!" Lestrade spoke. Sherlock looked at Céline.

"It's a warning," Sherlock spoke to her. Céline frowned.

"A warning?" Céline asked. "What do you mean?"

"Some secret societies used to send dried Melon seeds. Orange Pips. Things like that. Five pips! They're warning us that it's going to happen again." Sherlock explained. Céline turned pale. Watson watched the two and frowned.

"Hang on. What's going to happen again?" Watson asked. Sherlock pointed toward the door and made a large movement with his arms.

"Boom!" Sherlock spoke.


	16. The Great Game 3

Sherlock, Céline, Watson, and Lestrade hurried back to 221b Baker Street. Sherlock rushed out. He had called Mrs. Hudson on the drive over to meet them to unlock the basement apartment, 221c. Mrs. Hudson was waiting with the keys and they all followed her down to the basement level. Sherlock began to study the door closely.

"You both took a look, didn't you, Sherlock when you came with Céline to see about the flat? I can't get anyone interested in it. The damp I expect. It's the curse of basements." Mrs. Hudson asked as she sorted through a ring of keys. "I had a place once, when I was first married, black mold all up against the walls, it was like a weight on your chest…"

"Door's been opened. Recently." Sherlock observed, looking at Céline. She noted it. Mrs. Hudson shook her head as she removed the apartment key from the ring.

"No. Can't have been. This is the only key." Mrs. Hudson spoke as she handed the key over to Sherlock. Sherlock quickly unlocked and went into the apartment. Watson and Lestrade followed behind.

"Céline, I'll be upstairs if they need anything." Mrs. Hudson spoke.

"Thank you." Céline smiled before heading in after them. Sherlock had knelt in front of a pair of shoes sitting in the middle of the floor. After a few moments, the pink phone began to ring. Sherlock jumped up and walked over to Céline, putting it on speaker.

"Hello?" Sherlock asked. A crying woman could be heard on the other line. Céline and Sherlock exchanged a glance.

"Hello, sexy." The woman cried. Sherlock frowned.

"Who is this?" Sherlock asked. The woman continued to cry and Céline brought a hand to her mouth. Watson and Lestrade listened from the other side of the room.

"I've sent you...a little puzzle...just to say...hi." The woman spoke. Sherlock was confused. Céline grabbed Sherlock's arm and brought her mouth to his ear.

"Prompted," Céline spoke. Watson saw the confusion on Sherlock's face melt away.

"The curtain rises.." Sherlock began.

"Twelve hours to solve my puzzle, Sherlock. Or I'm going to be so naughty." The woman spoke before breaking out into sobs. The call suddenly ended. Watson and Lestrade were horrified. Sherlock grabbed Céline's arm.

"Céline, I need to go to the hospital," Sherlock spoke before plucking the shoes off of the ground.

* * *

Watson and Céline joined Sherlock at the Hospital in his usual lab. Sherlock was sitting on a stool at a microscope, he still wore his coat. Céline sat beside him on a stool, Sherlock had asked her to stay beside him as he worked. Lestrade had also asked Céline to keep him updated before he returned to Scotland Yard. Watson was pacing on the other side of the table.

"Who do you suppose it was? The woman on the phone. You know, the crying woman?" Watson asked. Sherlock shrugged.

"Oh, she doesn't matter. Just a hostage. There's no lead there." Sherlock spoke. Céline watched both men. Watson got upset.

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads." Watson snapped. Sherlock peeked up from the microscope.

"Then you're not going to be much use to her." Sherlock snapped.

"Are they trying to trace it? Trace the call?" Watson asked.

"They weren't able to," Céline replied. Sherlock's phone beeped and Céline took it out of the pocket of the coat Sherlock wore to check the message. Watson noticed this and perked an eyebrow.

"It's Mycroft." Céline softly spoke.

"Delete it." Sherlock quickly replied. Céline nodded and went to delete the messages. Watson crossed his arms.

"Delete it?" Watson asked, unsure.

"Those missile plans will be out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it." Sherlock shrugged.

"Well if Mycroft is texting you so much maybe he thinks there is something you can do." Watson retorted.

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" Sherlock asked. Watson frowned.

"His what?" Watson asked.

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains, end of story. The only mystery is this…why is my brother so determined to bore me when someone else is being so delightfully interesting?" Sherlock matter of factly spoke. Watson laughed in disgust.

"Yeah, try and remember there's a woman who might die!" Watson snapped.

"What for? This hospital is full of dying people, Doctor Watson, go and cry at their bedsides, see what good it does them." Sherlock flatly spoke. Sherlock then changed the image on the microscope and perked up. He grabbed Céline's arm in excitement and stepped aside so she could look through the microscope. She stood and looked through. Sherlock stood close behind her.

"Pollen?" Céline observed. Sherlock nodded.

"From Sussex…" Sherlock began. Before he could continue Molly Hooper came in with another staff member, Jim. Molly noticed how close Céline and Sherlock were standing and blushed, she was clearly a touch upset by it. Céline quickly moved away and sat on the stool again. She noticed that the man Molly was with, Jim, was watching her and trying to hide it.

"Any luck?" Molly spoke after an awkward moment of silence. Sherlock was watching Jim. He didn't like how much he was looking at Céline. When Jim noticed Sherlock was watching him he turned all of his attention away from Céline, he didn't want to give his cover away.

"Yes," Sherlock spoke. Molly gestured to Jim.

"Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes!" Molly spoke. She turned to Watson. "Oh! And John Watson." She laughed. Céline felt awkward.

"And this is Céline," Sherlock spoke when Molly didn't bring up Céline.

"Sorry, yes…Céline…this is Céline, from Scotland Yard," Molly spoke. Jim smiled warmly at all three of them. Sherlock and Céline exchanged a glance and Sherlock went back to the microscope.

"Hi," Jim spoke. He turned his attention to Sherlock. "So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. Are you on one of your cases?" Sherlock didn't say anything.

"Yes, he is," Céline replied for him. Jim stared right into her eyes and it frightened Céline, his friendly demeanor was betrayed by the look in his eyes. They were full of judgment and anger.

"I see…" Jim spoke. Molly nervously spoke up.

"Jim works in IT upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance!" Molly spoke. Sherlock felt how uncomfortable Céline was and glanced up at Jim.

"Gay," Sherlock spoke. Céline turned bright red and exchanged an awkward glance with Watson.

"I'm sorry?" Molly asked. Before Sherlock could answer Céline nudged him with her foot as a way to tell him to behave. Jim noticed out of the corner of his eye.

"Nothing," Sherlock spoke, following Céline's order. Jim stepped around to the other side of Sherlock's stool and tripped over it, knocking a dish over. In the commotion, he put his phone number in the dish and passed it to Sherlock.

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry," Jim spoke, nervously going back to Molly. He nervously laughed and kissed her cheek. "Well, I'd better be off before I knock anything else over. See you at the Fox? Sixish?" Jim asked. Molly nodded.

"Yeah." Molly smiled, looking at Sherlock to see his reaction. Sherlock was still looking into the microscope.

"Bye, then. Nice to meet you." Jim spoke to Céline and Watson.

"You too." Watson and Céline both replied. Jim left and the room sat in an uncomfortable silence for a long while.

"What do you mean, gay? We're together." Molly snapped, walking over to Sherlock. Sherlock sat up and turned to her.

"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you." Sherlock spoke, he was upset at how uncomfortable Céline was during the interaction with Molly and Jim.

"Sherlock!" Céline scolded. Sherlock laid his hand on Céline's arm. Molly noticed this and was more upset, she could tell there was something going on between Sherlock and Céline.

"Two and a half pounds!" Molly snapped at Sherlock. "And He's not gay! Why do you have to spoil things! He's not!" Molly spoke.

"With that level of personal grooming?" Sherlock observed. Before Céline could try and get Sherlock under control again Watson cut in.

"What? A bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair." Watson rolled his eyes.

"You wash your hair. There's a difference. No, no. Tinted eyelashes, clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines and eyes. Then there's his underwear."

"His underwear?" Molly exclaimed.

"Visible above his waist. Very visible. Very particular brand. That plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just dropped his phone number in this dish and I'd say you'd better spare yourself the pain and break it off now." Sherlock snapped, thrusting the scrap of paper Jim put into the dish at Molly. Molly burst into tears and ran out. Céline stood and went after her.

"Molly! Wait!" Céline called after her. When Céline left Watson frowned at Sherlock.

"Charming. Well done." Watson scolded.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?" Sherlock asked. Watson crossed his arms.

"Kinder? No, Sherlock. That wasn't kind." Watson scolded again before checking his watch, getting ready to leave. Sherlock tossed the sneakers over at Watson.

"Go on, then," Sherlock spoke.

"No." Watson snapped, misunderstanding and thinking Sherlock wanted to still talk about Molly.

"Go on," Sherlock spoke again.

"No! I'm not going to sit here so you can humiliate…" Watson began. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"An outside eye. A second opinion. It's very useful to me." Sherlock explained. Watson noticed the sneakers and frowned, picking them up.

* * *

"Molly!" Céline called, she caught up to her as Molly ducked into a storage closet to cry.

"Go away!" Molly cried as Céline shut the door behind them.

"No, I want to make sure you're okay," Céline replied. She had known Molly since she began at the Scotland Yard. She often worked with her on investigations. But she had never seen her this upset. Molly wiped her eyes with her sleeve and looked at Céline.

"How long have you and Sherlock been together?" Molly asked, sniffling. Céline turned bright red.

"I…we…we aren't…" Céline stuttered, caught off guard by the question. Molly shook her head.

"Don't lie. I can see it in his eyes. The way he looks at you." Molly observed, starting to cry again.

"Molly…" Céline began.

"I should have known, you two were always so close. It was bound to happen." Molly spoke. Céline didn't know what to say, she hadn't realized Molly had feelings for Sherlock until this moment. "I'm sorry, I should be happy that he's happy." Molly cried. "I shouldn't be upset."

"I'm sorry Molly…I had no idea…" Céline spoke before trailing off. Molly took Céline's hands.

"Just please, make him happy," Molly spoke.

* * *

"Pollen. Clear as a map reference to me. South of the river too. So the child who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind." Sherlock spoke. Céline wandered back in from talking with Molly.

"Is she okay?" Watson asked Céline, turning away from Sherlock

"More or less…" Céline softly spoke. Sherlock frowned, Céline seemed upset. Watson turned back to Sherlock.

"So what happened to them?" Watson asked.

"Something bad. He loved these shoes, remember? Wouldn't leave them filthy. Wouldn't let them go unless he had no choice. So a kid with big feet gets…" Sherlock trailed off, realizing something. Watson perked an eyebrow.

"What?" Watson asked.

"Carl Powers!" Sherlock spoke up.

"Who?" Watson asked.

"Carl Powers!" Sherlock repeated.

"What is it?" Watson asked.

"It's where I began," Sherlock replied.

Céline was lost in thought. She was in a cab with Sherlock and Watson on the way back to 221b Baker street. Sherlock and Watson were looking at an old newspaper on Sherlock's phone. The newspaper's headline read.

 _Carl Died Doing What He Loved._

"1989. Young kid, champion swimmer, came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament, drowned in the pool. Tragic accident. You won't remember it. Why should you?" Sherlock spoke to Watson.

"But you remember?" Watson asked.

"Yes." Sherlock snapped.

"There was something fishy about it?" Watson asked again. Sherlock nodded.

"Nobody thought so. Nobody except me. I was only a child myself. I read about it in the paper." Sherlock explained. Watson chuckled.

"Started young, didn't you?" Watson observed.

"The boy Carl Powers had some sort of fit in the water. By the time they got him out, it was too late." Sherlock continued, ignoring Watson's comment. Céline bounced back to reality and turned back to Sherlock and Watson. "But there was something wrong. Something I couldn't get out of my head."

"What?" Céline asked.

"His shoes." Sherlock spoke. Watson tilted his head to the side, thinking.

"What about them?" Watson asked.

"They weren't there. I made a bit of a fuss. Tried to get the police interested. But no-one thought it was important. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, you see. But there was no sign of his shoes….Until now." Sherlock explained. Céline frowned and wondered what it meant. When they got out Watson checked his phone.

"Mycroft is texting me." Watson spoke. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"He want's me to come by." Watson told them, reading from his phone.

"You should go." Sherlock encoraged. Watson seemed taken aback. He looked to Céline to see what she would say.

"I think it's a good idea." Céline agreed. Watson smiled and nodded. He stopped the cab they had just took before leaving and got in. The cab drove off with Watson. Sherlock and Céline paused for a moment.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked. Céline shrugged.

"It's nothing." Céline lied. Sherlock frowned and took a step toward her. They didnt notice a man watching from a car down the street. Sherlock cupped her face.

"Céline…" Sherlock began.

"I mean it. It's not important right now." Céline checked her phone as she spoke. "You have 8 hours left. I'm not going to waste your time right now." Sherlock thought about it and nodded, he kissed her forehead.

"Will you stay with me?" Sherlock asked. "I'd love your company." Céline smiled and nodded.

"I will." She replied.

A few hours later they were both sitting in the kitchen. Céline had gotten the Carl Power's case police files over email from Lestrade and was reading them as Sherlock ran tests on bits and pieces of the shoes. Mrs. Hudson came in with two cups of tea.

"Thank you , Mrs. Hudson." Céline smiled. Mrs. Hudson noticed that Sherlock had not been drinking the tea.

"Of course Céline. I just don't know why I bother bringing him any." Mrs. Hudson sigh. She looked around before heading back downstairs. Céline watched Sherlock for a long moment, a smile tugged on her lips. He was so handsome, and she loved watching him work. He was currently starting into a microscope. Sherlock suddenly jumped up.

"Céline! This is it!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"What is it?" Céline asked. Sherlock rushed over to her and pulled her over to the microscope to look. "Clostridium botulinim. One of the deadliest poisons on earth!" Sherlock explained. Céline nodded as she looked.

"So he was murdered." Céline observed. "But how was it administered?"

"Remember the shoe-laces? The boy suffered from eczema. It would be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. A few hours later he came up to London for the swimming competition, the poison took effect, paralysed the muscles and he drowned!" Sherlock explained. As he spoke he rushed over to Watson's laptop and pulled up the website. Céline rushed over to the case files, pulling out the autopsy report.

"And it would have been undetectable in the autopsy." Céline spoke. Sherlock nodded.

"Yes! But there were tiny traces still inside the trainers. From where he'd rubbed the cream into his feet. That's why they had to go!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"So you've solved it!" Céline beamed. "How do we let the bomber know?" She asked, texting Lestrade the news. Sherlock began to type out a new blog entry.

"We get his attention." Sherlock explained. Céline walked over and placed her hand on his shoulder, looking at the new blog entry.

 _Found, Pair of Trainers Belonging to Carl Powers. Toxin Still Present. Apply to 221b Baker Street._

"Stop the clock." Sherlock spoke, he turned the chair and wrapped his arms around Céline, laying his head against her chest. Céline played with his hair as they waited for the phone to ring. Mrs. Hudson came in and saw them and quickly rushed out, surprised to see the embrace. Sherlock and Céline both didnt notice her.

"Sherlock?" Céline asked, he looked up at her.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked her.

"So does this mean…since he had the shoes…the bomber…." Céline began.

"Was Carl's killer." Sherlock nodded. Céline frowned. Before she could say anything else the phone rang. Sherlock quickly answered, putting it on speaker. The same crying woman could be heard.

"Well...done you. Come...and get me." The woman spoke. Suddenly she was no longer being prompted to speak. "Help me! For God's sake, please help me!" She shouted.

"Where are you? Tell us where you are!" Sherlock spoke. Céline quickly texted Lestrade the address she was at so Scotland Yard could retrieve her. The woman was picked up and taken to emergency.

* * *

Céline had gotten up from bed. She couldn't sleep not knowing about the woman. It was midnight when Céline got the update call from Lestrade. Sherlock was asleep in her bedroom.

"Is she…" Céline began.

"She's alright. Tonight she's in emergency, in the morning we'll be able to interview her. She's a bit shaken up." Lestrade replied.

"Thank goodness." Céline sigh, a weight lifting off of her shoulders. There was a quiet moment on the line.

"But, Céline…I've been meaning to ask you something." Lestrade spoke.

"Yes?" Céline replied. Lestrade seemed nervous.

"Can you tell me his name? It's driving me mad." Lestrade asked. Céline sigh, she went to her bedroom door and peeked in to see Sherlock still fast asleep.

"Greg…" Céline began.

"Then just tell me. Is he being good to you? Does he treat you well?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes. He does." Céline replied. Lestrade sigh.

"I'm sorry, Céline. I should be happy that you're happy." Lestrade spoke. Céline froze up, thinking back to her conversation with Molly. "Goodnight." Lestrade sadly spoke before hanging up. Céline set her phone on the kitchen island and rubbed her eyes.

"Céline?" Sherlock called sleepily from the bedroom. "Céline, are you there?" She smiled and went back to her bedroom.

"Where did you go?" Sherlock asked, eagerly pulling her into his arms as she got back into bed.

"Lestrade called, the woman is alright." Céline responded.

"Good." Sherlock sleepily spoke, kissing her lightly. Céline smiled and watched him as he fell back asleep.


	17. The Great Game 4

Sherlock, Céline, and Watson were all sitting in Lestrade's office. Céline was sipping from her coffee, looking over the crime scene notes as Sherlock and Watson talked with Lestrade.

"She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in. Wearing masks. Decked her out in enough explosive to take down the house and told her to phone you." Lestrade explained. Sherlock was looking at the pager and the mobile phone that were retrieved from the crime scene.

"She had to read out from that pager," Lestrade spoke.

"And if she'd deviated by one word, the sniper would've set her off," Sherlock observed, getting up to pace around the office.

"Or if you hadn't solved the case," Watson exclaimed. Sherlock looked out the window to the street below.

"Oh! Elegant!" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Elegant?" Watson frowned. Lestrade stood too,

"But what was the point? Why would anyone do this?" Lestrade asked.

"I can't be the only person in the world who gets bored." Sherlock quickly answered. The pink phone suddenly rang. Céline looked up from the notes and her and Sherlock exchanged a look. Sherlock punched in the code and played a message. This time it was four beeps.

"Four pips!" Watson exclaimed. Sherlock perked an eyebrow.

"The first test passed, it seems. Here's the second one." Sherlock observed. He passed the pink phone around the room. A photograph opened on the phone and showcased a sports car with all of the doors open. Céline was the last person to be passed the phone and she returned it to Sherlock. "Abandoned, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock asked her.

"I would." Céline agreed. Lestrade made a note.

"I'll see if it's been reported," Lestrade spoke. Suddenly Sally knocked and passed over her phone, an annoyed look on her face.

"Freak!" Sally snapped. "It's for you." Sherlock took the phone and put it on speaker. Lestrade passed her a description of the car to look up.

"Hello?" Sherlock asked. This time it was a man on the phone. He spoke with a fearful voice and there was the sound of a crowd in the background as well.

"It's ok that you've gone to the police…" The man spoke, being prompted again.

"Who is this? Is this you again?" Sherlock snapped.

"...but don't rely on them. Clever. you. Guessing about Carl Powers. I never liked him. I had a little theory. About asteroids. Carl laughed at me. So I stopped him laughing." The man spoke. Céline frowned at the police comment and shared a look with Lestrade.

"And you've stolen another voice, I presume," Sherlock observed.

"This is about you and me." The man spoke.

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked. "What is that noise?" Céline turned pale.

"Oh my god, he's near a crowd." Céline softly spoke.

"The sounds of life, Sherlock. But don't worry...I can soon fix that." The man spoke. "You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time you have eight." The phone call cut. Sherlock and Céline locked eyes, she could see that his mind was racing. Sally returned and passed Lestrade the car's location.

"We've found it!" Lestrade spoke, passing Sherlock the note.

* * *

Céline, Sherlock, and Lestrade were both standing around the car. Sally and Watson were a few feet back.

"The car was hired yesterday morning by an Ian Monkford. Banker of some kind. City boy. Paid in cash. He told his wife he was going away on a business trip. He never arrived." Lestrade explained. Sherlock began to look through the car, the back seat was covered in blood.

"So, you're still hanging around him," Sally asked Watson. Watson nodded.

"Yeah," Watson replied. Sally shrugged.

"Opposites attract, I suppose. You know, you should get yourself a hobby. Stamps, maybe. Model trains. Safer."

"Before you ask. Yes. It's Mulcaster's blood. DNA checks out." Lestrade spoke to Sherlock.

"But no body?" Céline asked. Sally walked toward them.

"Not yet." Sally snapped.

"Get a sample sent to the lab," Sherlock asked Lestrade. Lestrade and Sally nodded and left to head back to Scotland Yard. Sherlock began to approach a woman standing at the edge of the crime scene. Céline followed close behind. Watson got a call from Mycroft and stayed behind to take it,

"Mrs. Monkford?" Sherlock asked. Mrs. Monkford looked up at Sherlock and rubbed her eyes. She was clearly exhausted.

"Yes? Listen, sorry, I've already spoken to two policemen." Mrs. Monkford hesitantly spoke. Before Céline could say anything Sherlock spoke.

"Sherlock Holmes. A very old friend of your husband's. We grew up together." Sherlock lied. Mrs. Monkford tilted her head.

"I'm sorry, who? I don't think he ever mentioned you…" Mrs. Monkford observed. Sherlock shook his head.

"Oh, he must have. God, this is horrible, isn't it? Can't believe it. Only saw him the other day. Same old Ian, not a care in the world." Sherlock began. Mrs. Monkford tensed up, getting angry.

"Sorry, but my husband's been depressed for months. Who are you?" Mrs. Monkford asked.

"Really strange that he hired a car, though, why would he do that? Bit suspicious." Sherlock asked back, ignoring her question.

"No, it isn't. He forgot to renew the tax on the car, that's all." Mrs. Monkford corrected.

"Well, that's Ian for you, isn't it…" Sherlock sigh.

"No, it wasn't." Mrs. Monkford snapped. Sherlock quickly grabbed Céline's arm.

"Well, we must be off," Sherlock spoke before quickly rushing away. When they were out of her earshot Sherlock stopped walking. "Did you notice?"

"I can't say I did." Céline quickly replied.

"I referred to her husband in the past tense and then she joined in. Bit premature, they only just found the car." Sherlock observed, rubbing his hands together.

"But surely she didn't kill her husband?" Céline frowned. Sherlock shook his head no, agreeing with her.

"Definitely not. That's not a mistake a murderer would make." Sherlock spoke. Watson joined them.

"Where now?" Watson asked. Sherlock passed him a business card for "Janus Cars".

* * *

Sherlock and Céline were both sitting in an office for a man named Ewart at Janus Cars. Watson had taken a detour to go and see Mycroft and was not with them.

"How can I help?" Ewart spoke. He had been flirting with Céline the entire time they had been there and Sherlock was in a bad mood. "It's not often a pretty lady from Scotland Yard comes by." Céline cleared her throat.

"A Mr. Monkford hired a car from you yesterday and we…" Céline began.

"Yup. Lovely motor. Nissan 350Z. Wouldn't mind one of them myself. But, I just got a better model." Ewart cut her off. Sherlock frowned and pointed at a photograph on the wall.

"Is that one?" Sherlock asked. Ewart turned in his chair to look at the photographs and shook his heads.

"Nah. They're all Jags. I can see you're not a car man." Ewart observed before turning his attention back to Céline. "Maybe when you get off tonight I can take you for a ride in one?" Before Céline could reply Sherlock angrily cut in.

"Surely you can afford one? A Nissan, I mean." Sherlock asked. Ewart turned to him, clearly annoyed.

"Fair point! But, you know how it is. It's like working in a sweet shop. Once you start picking at the Liquorice Allsorts, where does it stop?" Ewart shrugged, scratching his arm absentmindedly.

"You didn't know Mr. Monkford?" Sherlock asked.

"No," Ewart replied, glancing up to the left. "He was just a client. Walked in here and hired one of my cars. I've no idea what happened to him, poor sod." Sherlock glared.

"Nice holiday, Mr. Ewart?" Sherlock asked. Ewart seemed taken aback. "You've been abroad, haven't you?" Ewart looked at the tan visible from his wrist.

"This, you mean? Nah. Sunbeds, I'm afraid. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though. A bit of sun." Ewart shrugged. Sherlock nodded.

"Do you happen to have change for the cigarette machine?" Sherlock asked. Céline was confused.

"What?" Ewart asked. Sherlock pointed out the door.

"I noticed one on the way in and I haven't got any change," Sherlock spoke as he grabbed a banknote from his pocket to hand over. "I'm gasping." Ewart frowned and took out his wallet.

"No, sorry." Ewart shrugged. Sherlock shrugged and stood.

"Oh well. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Ewert. Come on, Céline." Céline quickly stood and followed. As they went down the hall Céline frowned.

"I thought you had on…" She began. Sherlock shook his head and pulled up his sleeve to reveal three nicotine patches.

"I'm doing well," Sherlock replied.

"Then why?" Céline began again.

"Mr. Ewart's a liar," Sherlock explained. "I needed to look inside his wallet. Can you get me into the car pound?" Sherlock asked. Céline nodded and they hailed a cab. A few minutes later they had gotten to the car pound and Sherlock was looking through the car running some tests. Céline was holding the pink phone and watching him. It rang and she answered putting it on speaker. Sherlock walked over.

"Hello?" Sherlock spoke.

"The clue's in the name. Janus Cars." The man spoke. Sherlock perked an eyebrow.

"And why would you be giving me a clue?" Sherlock asked.

"Why does anyone do anything? Because I'm bored..." The man spoke, trailing off. "I know she's there with you, isn't she." The man asked after a short pause. Céline and Sherlock exchanged a glance. "Is she?" The man asked when he didn't get an answer.

"She is," Sherlock spoke.

"I want her to know that we were made for each other, Sherlock. You and I. She'll be out of the picture soon enough." The man spoke. Sherlock frowned.

"Then talk to me with your own voice." Sherlock challenged.

"Patience." The man spoke before the call cut out.


	18. The Great Game 5

Céline was frightened but she was trying not to show it. Sherlock was running low on time. Lestrade and Watson had joined them at the car pound, it was night now.

"How much blood is on the seat, would you say?" Sherlock asked Lestrade. Lestrade looked at the backseat for a couple of moments.

"About a pint?" Lestrade suggested. Sherlock nodded.

"Not about, exactly. Exactly a pint. That was their first mistake. The blood is definitely Mr. Monkford's but it's been frozen." Sherlock explained. Lestrade frowned.

"Frozen?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock nodded.

"There are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago and that's what they spread on the seats." Sherlock matter-of-factly spoke.

"Who?" Watson asked.

"Janus Cars. The clue's in the name." Sherlock spoke.

"The god with two faces." Watson observed. Sherlock nodded.

"Exactly." Sherlock spoke. "They provide a very special service. If you've got any kind of a problem, money troubles, bad marriage, whatever Janus Cars will help you disappear. Ian Monkford was up to his eyes in some kind of trouble, financial, at a guess. He is a banker. Couldn't see a way out. But if he were to vanish, if the car he hired was found abandoned with his blood all over the driver's seat…" Sherlock explained.

"So where is he?" Watson asked.

"Colombia." Sherlock replied. Lestrade laughed in disbelief. "Mr Ewert of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Colombian peso note in his wallet. Quite a bit of change, too. He told us he hadn't been abroad recently, but when I asked him about the cars, I could see his tan line clearly. No one wears a shirt on a sunbed. That, plus his arm…"

"What about his arm?" Céline curiously asked.

"Remember how he kept scratching it? Obviously irritating him, and bleeding. Why? Because he'd recently had a booster jab. Hep-B, probably. Difficult to tell at that distance. Conclusion, he'd just come back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in Colombia. Mrs Monkford cashes in the life insurance and she splits it with Janus Cars." Sherlock shrugged.

"Mrs. Monkford?" Watson frowned.

"Oh yes. She's in on it too." Sherlock shrugged, Turing to Lestrade. "Now go and arrest them, Inspector. That's what you do best."

"Now, we need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved." Sherlock walked over to Céline. "Let's go." Céline and Watson followed Sherlock back to 221b Baker Street. Sherlock quickly opened the blog and typed out a new post.

 _Congratulations to Ian Monkford on his relocation to Columbia._

A few seconds after typing the post out and sending it in the pink phone rang.

"He says you can come and fetch me. Help. Help me, please." The man spoke. Céline quickly sent his location to Lestrade and the police were quickly sent to his location.

"Watson, don't wait up. I'm walking Céline home." Sherlock spoke. Watson nodded and went to go make himself some tea. Céline and Sherlock came down the steps and left to her apartment. When they got inside Sherlock and Céline both removed their shoes and coats.

"How am I doing?" Sherlock asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Fantastic." Céline smiled. Sherlock kissed her deeply and she returned it. They moved to the couch as they kissed. Sherlock sat down on the couch and Céline sat in his lap as they kissed. "Sherlock?" She breathlessly asked, pulling away.

"Yes?" He replied.

"What the bomber said…" Céline began. Sherlock took her hands in his and kissed them.

"I won't let him hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you." Sherlock confidently spoke. He cupped her face with one hand, and began to kiss her neck. Céline's head fell back.

"But Sherlock…" She softly moaned.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked, speaking into her skin.

"Who is it?" Céline asked. Sherlock pulled back to look at her, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I think it's Moriarty." He replied. "But…I just want to think about us right now." Sherlock admitted. "He'll be back first thing in the morning." Céline blushed and smiled. She took his face into her hands and they began to kiss again. Later that night they were in bed together. Sherlock was above her and they were both passionately snogging. His shirt was off and Céline was only in her undergarments. It was the closest they had gotten to making love but they both decided to wait until everything with Moriarty had calmed down. Sherlock was confused. He was frightened at how deep his feelings for her had gotten and he didn't quite understand or know how to express his love for her. Desire was a new emotion for him and going a step further with Céline was something that both excited and scared him. Sherlock woke up early, but he left to go and have breakfast with Watson. Céline got up shortly after he left. She went into the bathroom to change and turned bright red when she saw her neck and chest. Sherlock had covered her neck and chest in love bites the previous night. She was thankful that she wore turtleneck dresses because the dress she wore that day completely covered them. After getting dressed she went to Scotland Yard.

* * *

Sherlock and Watson were sitting at a diner. Sherlock didnt eat, he was just starting at the pink phone. Impatiently waiting for the next case.

"You realise we've hardly stopped for breath since this thing started?" Watson asked between bites. "Has it occurred to you…"

"Probably." Sherlock cut him off.

"No! Has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope, breaking into the other flat, the dead kid's shoes…it's all meant for you." Watson explained. Sherlock nodded.

"Yes, I know." Sherlock frowned, rubbing his eyes.

"Is it him, then? Moriarty?" Watson asked. Sherlock thought back to the previous night.

"Perhaps…" Sherlock began. The pink phone suddenly beeped and Sherlock switched it on. This time it was three pips. A photograph of Connie Prince came up. Sherlock didn't know who she was and frowned. "That could be anybody." Watson glanced at the photo while he finished his food.

"Well, it could be. But, lucky for you, I've been more than a little unemployed." Watson spoke. Sherlock tilted his head.

"How do you mean?" He asked. Watson paid for the bill.

"Lucky for you, Mrs Hudson and I watch far too much telly." Watson spoke. They returned to 221b Baker Street and Watson turned on the telly, switching the channel a couple of times until he got to Connie's makeover show.

 _"_ Thank you, Tyra! Doesn't she look lovely, everybody!?" Connie spoke on screen. The pink phone rang as Sherlock watched the telly.

 _"_ Hello?" Sherlock asked.

"This one is a bit defective. Sorry." An old-woman spoke. "She's blind. This is a funny one. I'll give you twelve hours." Sherlock frowned at this.

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock asked.

"I like to watch you dance." The old-woman spoke before beginning to cry. The phone cut off and Sherlock quickly messaged Céline.

 _"_ …continuing into the sudden death of the popular TV personality, Connie Prince. Miss Prince, famous for her make-over programs, was found dead two days ago by her brother in the house they shared in Hampstead…" The news report read before Sherlock left to the Morgue.

* * *

Céline was waiting with Lestrade when Sherlock and Watson made it to the morgue. They all stood around Connie's body.

 _"_ Connie Prince, fifty-four. She had one of those make-over shows on the telly. Did you see it?" Lestrade spoke. Sherlock shook his head.

"No." Sherlock shrugged.

"Very popular. She was going places." Lestrade observed. Sherlock shook his head and studied the body.

"Not any more." Sherlock spoke. Céline was looking over the case file.

"According to one of her staff, Raoul de Santos, she cut her hand on a rusty nail in the garden." Céline spoke. Sherlock turned his attention to the wound.

"Tetanus bacteria enters the bloodstream and goodnight Vienna." Sherlock spoke. Watson nodded, also observing the wound on her hand.

"I suppose." Watson nodded.

"Something's wrong with this picture." Sherlock frowned, looking at Céline. "Can't be as simple as it seems, otherwise the bomber wouldn't be directing us towards it. Something's wrong." Sherlock took out a magnifing glass from his pocket and began observing the body.

 _"_ John? The cut on her hand: it's deep, would have bled a lot, right?" Sherlock asked. Watson nodded.

"Yeah." Watson answered.

"But the wound's clean…and fresh….How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?" Sherlock asked, putting the magnifier back into his pocket. Watson thought for a second.

"Eight, ten days." Watson spoke before frowning. "The cut was made later."

"After she was dead?" Céline asked.

"Must have been. The only question is, how did the tetanus enter the dead woman's system?" Sherlock asked. Watson looked at the body. "John, Connie Prince's background, family history, everything. Give me data." Sherlock asked. Watson nodded and left. Lestrade scratched his head.

"There's something else that we haven't thought of." Lestrade asked. "Why is he doing this, the bomber? If this woman's death was suspicious, why point it out?" Lestrade asked. Céline noticed concern cross Sherlock's face.

"Good Samaritan." Sherlock shrugged.

"Who press-gangs suicide bombers?" Lestrade snapped. Sherlock nodded.

"Bad Samaritan then." Sherlock shrugged. Lestrade took a step forward and grabbed Sherlock's arm.

"I'm serious, Sherlock. Listen…I'm cutting you slack here; I'm trusting you but out there somewhere, some poor bastard's covered in Semtex and is just waiting for you to solve the puzzle. So just tell me…what are we dealing with?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock smirked.

 _"_ Something new." Sherlock replied.

* * *

Hours later Sherlock and Céline had returned to 221b Baker Street and Sherlock had covered the walls with all the evidence form all the cases. Watson was meeting with Connies' brother. Céline was sitting at the desk with a cup of tea and the pink phone.

"Connection, connection, connection. There must be a connection Céline." Sherlock spoke. "Carl Powers, killed twenty years ago. The bomber _knew_ him; _admitted_ that he knew him. First hostage from Cornwall. The second from London. The third from Yorkshire, judging by her accent. What's he doing working his way around the world? Showing off?" Sherlock explained. The phone rang and Céline quickly answered and put it on speaker.

 _"_ _Y_ ou're enjoying this, aren't you? Joining the dots?" The old-woman cried. "Three hours…boom… boom." The woman cried before the phone cut. Céline and Sherlock exchanged glances before Sherlock turned back to the wall. A few minutes later he called the Home Secretary for a favor. Mrs. Hudson had wandered up and was talking to Céline as Sherlock was muling over the evidence.

 _"_ It was a real shame. I liked her. She taught you how to do your colours." Mrs. Hudson sigh.

"Your colours?" Céline asked.

"You know what goes best with what." Mrs. Hudson spoke, gesturing to her clothes. "I should never wear cerise, apparently. Drains me." Mrs. Hudson turned her attention to the telly. Rerun's of Connie's show were playing. "She was a pretty girl but she messed about with herself too much. They all do these days. People can hardly move their faces. It's silly, isn't it?!" Mrs. Hudson chuckled to herself. "Sherlock dear? Did you ever see her show?" Sherlock shook his head.

"Not until now." Sherlock spoke, the show suddenly catching his interest. He turned up the volume. Connie and her brother were talking.

 _"_ You look pasty, love!" Connie laughed. Her brother looked toward the audience.

"Rained every day but one!" Her brother spoke. Mrs. Hudson touched Céline's arm.

"That's the brother. No love lost there, if you can believe the papers…" Mrs. Hudson spoke.

"There's really only one thing we can do with that ensemble, don't you think, girls?" Connie spoke on the telly, making fun of her brother's outfit. "Off! Off! Off! Off!" She began to hit his back as the audience chanted with her. After the episode was over Mrs. Hudson went downstairs and Sherlock got a call from John. He answered and put it on speaker.

"John." Sherlock spoke.

"Hi. Look, get over here quickly. I think I'm onto something. You'll need to pick up some stuff first. You got a pen?" Watson spoke over the phone. He was at Connie's house and gave Sherlock the directions and a list of items. After hanging up Céline and Sherlock separated. Sherlock went to join Watson at the house and Céline returned to Scotland Yard.

* * *

Céline and Lestrade were sitting in the main office. There was one more hour to go and the two were feeling anxious. Sherlock and Watson suddenly rushed in from the house. Sherlock passed him a folder.

 _"_ Raoul de Santos is your killer. Kenny Prince's houseboy. Second autopsy shows it wasn't tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince, it was botulinum toxin. We've been here before. Carl Powers? Tut-tut. Our bomber's repeated himself.' Sherlock observed. Lestrade quickly picked up the folder and read the autopsy report before passing it to Céline.

"So how'd he do it?" Lestrade asked.

"Botox injection." Sherlock explained. "Botox is a diluted form of botulinum. Among other things, Raoul de Santos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injections. My contact at the Home Office gave me the complete records of Raoul's internet purchases. He's been bulk ordering Botox for months. Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose." Sherlock explained. Céline noticed that Watson seemed in a bad mood.

"You sure about this?" Lestrade asked.

"I'm sure." Sherlock spoke. Watson suddenly cut in.

"How long?" Watson snapped. Sherlock perked an eyebrow.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"How long have you known?" Watson asked. Sherlock shrugged.

"Well, this one was quite simple, actually, and like I said, the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake." Sherlock replied.

"No, but Sherl... The hostage... the old _woman_. She's been there all this time!" Watson snapped.

"I knew I could save her. I also knew that the bomber had given us _twelve_ hours. I solved the case quickly; that gave me time to get on with other things. Don't you _see_? We're one up on him!" Sherlock exclaimed. Lestrade led Sherlock and Céline into the office. Watson stayed back, he was angry. Sherlock used Lestrade's laptop to open the blog again. He typed a new entry.

 _Raoul de Santos, the house boy,. Botox._

The pink phone rang right away. Sherlock answered and put it on speaker.

"Hello?" Sherlock spoke.

"Help me." The old woman cried.

"Tell us where you are. Address." Sherlock spoke. Lestrade was waiting for the address. The woman trailed off.

"He was so…his voice." The woman began. Céline saw panic cross Sherlock's face.

"No, no, no, no. Tell me nothing about him. Nothing _." Sherlock ordered._

"He sounded so…kind." The old woman spoke, suddenly the phone went dead.

"Hello!?" Sherlock asked. "Hello!?" He cursed and tossed the phone down.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade asked. Watson frowned.

"What's happened?" Watson asked. Suddenly Lestrade's phone rang. It was news of the gas explosion. Lestrade and Céline left to deal with the explosion. Once the crime scene was wrapped up Céline hurried to 221b Baker Street. Sherlock and Watson were sitting in silence, watching the telly. There was a news report of the explosion. The headline read.

 _12 dead in gas explosion._

"Well, obviously I lost that round, although technically I did solve the case." Sherlock spoke when Céline entered. "He killed the old lady because she started to describe him."

"So why is he doing this? Playing this game with you? You think he wants to be caught?" Watson asked. Céline was standing by the door as the two began to argue. She was exhausted.

"I think he wants to be distracted." Sherlock spoke. Céline saw a tint in his eye. Watson clenched his fists.

"I hope you'll be very happy together." Watson growled. Céline and Sherlock both frowned.

"I'm sorry, what?" Sherlock growled back.

"There are lives at stake. Actual, human lives. I just want to know, do you care about that at all?" Watson shouted at Sherlock.

"John..." Céline began. Watson turned to her and frowned.

"No, Céline. He doesn't care about anyone but himself." Watson shouted at her. Céline bit her cheek. Before she could say anything else Sherlock stood.

"Would caring help save them, John?" Sherlock snapped. Watson paused for a long moment before answering.

"No." Watson spoke. Sherlock went to the door and grabbed his coat.

"Then I'll continue not to make that mistake." Sherlock curtly answered. "Céline, let's go. I'll walk you home." Sherlock spoke before they both left. When they got inside Céline's apartment Sherlock embraced her. She returned it

"Céline? Are you disappointed in me?" Sherlock asked. She shook her head.

"No." She softly spoke. Sherlock pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers, looking into her eyes.

"Im sorry. You have to go through this." Sherlock spoke. "My fan...the vulgarity…how I lost…"

"It's alright, Sherlock." Céline replied, she cupped his face and kissed him.

"You're the only one..." Sherlock softly spoke under his breath. He couldn't finish the sentence. He didn't know how to. He was still scared of what he felt for her. Céline kissed his cheek.

"Are you going to stay?" She asked. Sherlock thought for a moment and shook his head.

"I shouldn't until this is over. I have to give myself to my work right now." Sherlock. replied.

"I'll see you in the morning then, Sherlock." Céline softly spoke. He kissed her one more time and then left. When he left the apartment he didn't notice a man waiting in a car across the street from Céline's flat. It was the same man who had been watching, the same one who had taken photos of their kiss the night they decided to be together. When Sherlock disappeared down the street the man pulled on a ski mask and sent a text.

 _Will be at the drop off with her in thirty minutes._

He then grabbed a duffle bag from the back seat and entered the flat complex.


	19. The Great Game 6

At 4 am, Lestrade heard a knock at the door. He went to the door and found that he received two manilla envelopes in the mail. He frowned and studied them, getting a bad feeling. There was a paper taped to the top of one of them.

 _Open me Detective Inspector._

Lestrade frowned and removed the paper. A message was written on the first manilla envelope.

 _Sherlock Holmes, you have made a mistake._

Lestrade went into his home office and grabbed a pair of sissors. He cut one side of the envelope open and removed the stack of photographs that were inside. He turned sheet white as he studied them and quickly changed and rushed out of the house. He made it to 221b Baker Street a few minutes later and banged on the door. Mrs. Hudson answered in her nightgown and Lestrade rushed past her into the flat. Sherlock was sitting in the front room. Watson quickly joined from his bedroom after hearing the commotion.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked. Lestrade struggled to speak, he looked both frantic and upset. Eventually, he gave up and raised the two Manila envelopes he had received. His hand was shaking. Sherlock snatched the envelopes from him. Watson peeked at them as Sherlock grabbed them. Sherlock read the note on the first envelope scribbled on with black ink.

 _Sherlock Holmes, you have made a mistake._

Sherlock felt his heart stop. Watson took a step back and looked from Lestrade to Sherlock. He got a sinking feeling when he saw Céline was missing. Sherlock quickly reopened the package. A series of polaroids were in it. They were all of Céline. She was passed out and in a dirty basement. Her arms were tied to the back of a chair and her legs were tied to the chair legs. In the background, there was a stack of bombs. Sherlock stared at the photographs for a long time. Watson studied his face, Sherlock was angry. Suddenly his phone rang. It was a call from Céline. Sherlock quickly answered.

"Céline, are you alright?" He asked, the phone was on speaker. Watson was shocked to hear panic in his voice. The line was quiet for a moment.

"This one wasn't planned." Céline answered, clearly being prompted with what to say. All three men exchanged glances. There was a sound of a gun cocking on the line and Céline began to cry as she spoke. "I haven't seen you squirm quite as much as I would like...it has been a big disappointment to me."

"Why did you take her?" Sherlock snapped into the phone. There was a long moment where no-one said anything Céline was hyperventilating and crying through it.

"To see just how much caring will hurt your game." She spoke. "You have five hours. I would start by letting the cat out of the bag." The call cut out. Watson and Lestrade were silent.

"Let the cat out of the bag?" Watson asked, confused. Sherlock's face was bright red. He was afraid for her life and he was angry with himself for leaving her alone the previous night, his mind was racing. He quickly turned his attention to the other envelope and opened it. He looked at the photos and felt his stomach churn. They were photographs of the night they got together, photographs of their kissing. Céline's face was crossed out with a big red marker in all of them. "Sherlock?"

"Céline and I have been seeing each other for the last month." Sherlock suddenly blurred out. Lestrade turned bright red in both shock and betrayal, that's why Céline didnt want to tell him the name. Watson didn't understand.

"Ok. We all have seen her this last month. I don't understan..." Watson began.

"We've been in a relationship, John!" Sherlock shouted pushing the photos into his hands. Watson was shocked. He looked at them and turned red. He didn't think it was possible.

"You've what!?" Lestrade shouted, upset. "That's why you were asking me all those questions!"

"You didn't tell me!?" Watson snapped. Sherlock was frustrated. "You've been in a relationship for a month and you didn't tell me."

"This really isn't the time." Sherlock snapped. "We wanted to keep it private." Sherlock answered. "We only told Mycroft..." Lestrade walked to the window, he felt sick with anger. Watson frowned.

"A month!?" Watson shouted. Sherlock took a step toward Watson and got close.

"For the record John, this is a human life at stake. And I care very much and I don't have time for this petty fighting." Sherlock snapped a small tremor in his voice. Watson immediately felt terrible for what he had said the previous evening. Lestrade scoffed.

"You don't care about anyone but yourself! This is your fault!" Lestrade shouted. He grabbed Sherlock by the shirt front and aggressively shook him. "I swear to god if you don't find her before the time is up..." Sherlock struggled in his grasp.

"This is really helping!" Sherlock shouted. Lestrade frowned and let go of him.

"Where should we start?" Watson asked.

"Let's go to her apartment," Sherlock spoke.

* * *

When they got to Céline's apartment the door was unlocked. Sherlock hurried inside and the apartment was a mess. Watson and Lestrade joined him. Sherlock felt his face turn red. Both chairs from the island were turned over. Books were scattered over the floor. Some of her larger decorative trinkets were broken and on the floor. Céline had put up a fight with whoever came to abduct her. Sherlock's mind was racing, thinking of her fighting for her life. He knelt in the hallway in front of her bedroom and found drops of her blood. He went into the bedroom and saw that the bedroom doorknob had been broken in the fight. The lock was broken from outside the bedroom. He reasoned that she must have attempted to barricade herself in the bedroom. He saw the candle at her bedside on the floor. He picked it up. It had been broken and there was some blood and hair on the candle. Sherlock frowned. He felt sick. He rushed to the door frame again and found nail marks. She had been hit and dragged out.

"Well?" Watson asked.

"After I dropped her off. He must have been waiting for me to leave. He came in, surprised her, and they got into a fight. She rushed into the bedroom, tried to barricade herself in. Whoever was here was much stronger than anticipated. He broke the bedroom door trying to get in." Sherlock explained as he led them inside the bedroom. They got into a fight again. In the commotion, he grabbed the candle from her nightstand and struck her with it. From this, he dragged her out of the bedroom. She still struggled evidenced from the nail marks on the door frame. But…he got her. She was passed out by the time he made it to the door and he had to drag her to the car." Sherlock spoke. Watson frowned.

"Good god." Watson grimaced. The pink phone rang. It was a photograph of Céline as a child with both of her parents. It was taken a month before her father had murdered her mother and tried to murder Céline. Sherlock's mind was racing.

"Lestrade I need to see the case files for Céline's father." Sherlock spoke.

* * *

Céline heard someone enter the room and she looked over at the door. They were in the basement of her family's old house. A man entered and pulled a chair up across from her. It was Molly's boyfriend. Céline had not figured it out yet but he was also Moriarty. He saw surprise cross her face.

"Surprised? I have to be honest I thought you might have been onto me." Moriarty spoke, watching her closely. "I want to talk, woman to man."

"Talk about what?" Céline asked, glaring.

"I want to know how such a plain woman get's a man like Sherlock Holmes." Moriarty spoke. Céline turned bright red.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Céline replied. Moriarty laughed.

"I thought the woman Sherlock fell in love with was smarter than this." Moriarty coldly spoke. She frowned.

"Sherlock Holmes makes the choice to not care about anyone." Céline replied, thinking back to Sherlock and Watson's argument the previous evening. She was trying to cover, for both of them.

"No, Céline. That's where you're wrong." Moriarty matter-of-factly replied. He giggled in delight. "That's what makes this so fun. Sherlock gives a grand speech, that he can save people because he doesn't care, that he has a duty not to care…Then kidnapping and threatening the life of a woman he actually cares about. Well, that makes this fun." Céline just stared at him.

"Is he a good shag?" Moriarty asked. His eyes were bright with both jealousy and curiosity. When Céline didn't answer again Moriarty began to get angry. "A better shag that Lestrade then?"

"I haven't slept with either of them." Céline snapped. Moriarty stood and walked over to her. He went to grab the neck of her turtleneck dress and Céline tried to pull away. He smacked her across the face to get her to stop struggling and she yelped in pain. He pulled the neck of her dress back, studying the love bite's Sherlock had left behind.

"He's so eager for a virgin." Moriarty laughed. Céline started at him, her face flushed red again. "It's a good thing daddy left you with that big scar so you don't leave the house with out a high neck top. People may start saying things."

* * *

Sherlock was sitting in a conference room at Scotland Yard. He didnt have time to return to 221b Baker Street. They had already exhausted three hours. Two were left. Sherlock was looking for an address in the files. He knew that had to be it, but the files for the case were dense.

* * *

"You don't deserve him." Moriarty spoke, circling her. Sizing her up.

"Oh? And you do?" Céline replied back.

"Yes! I do!" He shouted before kicking her chair over. Céline cried out in pain when she hit the ground. He stood over her. "I hate you." Céline closed her eyes tight and Moriarty began to kick and beat her. Céline screamed in pain, she struggled but because she was bound to the chair she couldn't fight back. After a few minutes of this, he stopped and took out his phone, snapping photographs of her. As he left the room he prepared a text message and sent all the photos to Sherlock.

* * *

Sherlock heard the pink phone ring and he quickly looked at it. He felt his face begin to burn as he studied the photos. Céline was badly bruised up, she was crying in pain. Sherlock set the phone down and rushed through the files quicker until he found it. The address was an hour and a half away and he quickly rushed out of Scotland Yard and called a cab. As he rode over he texted Watson the address. This one was easy, clearly planned at the last minute. He was certain that Céline was kidnapped as a warning. It wasn't like the others. Moriarty was trying to intimidate them out of being together. Sherlock's mind wandered back to the photographs of her laying on the ground. He hated knowing that this was his fault. They had been so careful and it hadn't mattered. Sherlock checked his gps, 55 minutes remaining on the drive, 65 minutes remaining until the bombs were set off.


	20. The Great Game 7

Céline cried for a long while. Her body ached from the beating.

"Sherlock, please get here," Céline whispered to herself, through her tears. After a few minutes, she heard him.

"Céline!" It was Sherlock. He had made it with five minutes to spare. These bombs were different from the others, they were on a clock detonator.

"Sherlock!" She screamed back.

"Céline, don't move. I'll get there in a moment." Sherlock spoke. He couldn't get the front door open and rushed to the large front window. He grabbed a large rock from the yard and threw it in, breaking the window. Sherlock quickly rushed in. "Céline! Where are you!?" Sherlock shouted.

"In the basement! Sherlock please!" Céline shouted back. The second she spoke Sherlock rushed to the stairs and found the basement entrance. He had to kick in the locked door that led to a set of stairs that led to the basement. He ran down the stairs.

"Céline!" Sherlock ran to her, he knelt where she had been knocked over. His eyes wandered to the clock detonator. Three minutes. Sherlock untied her limbs and picked her up bridal style. "Hold on tightly." He spoke. Céline nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sherlock ran them upstairs and outside. By the time he got her untied he knew he had less than a minute to get as far away as possible and once he reached the road at the end of the long driveway he knelt down and pulled Céline's head into his chest. He used his back to shield them from the blast. The house exploded. Céline screamed and Sherlock pulled her closer as they waited for the dust to settle. The blast caught the house on fire behind them and Sherlock texted Lestrade the address. Once he had texted him he put his phone away and gave all of his attention to Céline. He began checking her to assess the severity of her injuries. Her body was covered in bruises, her head was bleeding from being struck at her apartment, and her right forearm was cut from the fight in her apartment. Céline just watched him as he checked her. She took Sherlock's face in her hands and she let out a small laugh before beginning to cry thankful tears. Sherlock frowned but before he could do anything she embraced him tightly, crying into his arms. Sherlock returned her embrace, being careful of her bruises. "I won't let him touch you ever again. If he hurts you again I'll kill him." Sherlock spoke.

* * *

When Watson and Lestrade showed up a half hour later they saw Sherlock and Céline sitting in the middle of the road. They had gotten a headstart when Sherlock texted Watson during his cab ride to the address. Céline was fast asleep in Sherlock's arms and he was gently rubbing her back. The siren woke her up and she blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes.

"Céline!" Lestrade called as he quickly parked and got out. Once she stood he ran to her and hugged her tight. "Thank god." Céline returned the hug. Watson walked up too. He also checked her limbs.

"We need to call an ambulance," Watson observed. Sherlock rode with her to the hospital.

* * *

After getting out of the hospital in the early morning, Sherlock took her to 221b Baker Street to stay so she was close and not at the risk of any danger. She had gotten stitches for her head and her arm and had been ordered to bed rest for the bruises. Lestrade ordered her to take some time off of work to recover. He interviewed her as she waited to be checked out and filled out the paperwork for the incident and left to Scotland Yard to submit it. Watson had left them at the hospital to go and meet with Mycroft. Sherlock had insisted on carrying her in. He took her into his bedroom and laid her down on the bed. She sat up and watched as he picked up the room, throwing some stray items into the closet.

"Thank you…" Céline began. Sherlock went over to her and sat beside her.

"Please, just try and get some rest. I'll fetch you a towel so you can clean up." Sherlock spoke. Céline nodded. When Sherlock returned with a towel she went into the bathroom and ran herself a bath. She sat in the piping hot water for a long while and she let her thoughts wander. When the water began to get cold she got out of the tub. As she emerged into the room with a towel on she found that Sherlock had laid out his tartan dressing gown for her to wear. She smiled, she knew it was his favorite one. She put it on and heard him in the other room playing Beethoven. Céline quietly stepped out and listened to him play for a bit from the corner. Once he was finished with the piece he put his violin back in the case and turned to look at her.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. She smiled.

"Better, but…still confused." She answered. Sherlock nodded, knowing he couldn't speak to her about her confusion just yet. He went over to her and cupped her face. She placed her hand over his and they watched each other for a moment. "Don't speak to me about him. I can't risk your safety again." Sherlock ordered. She nodded.

"Could you stay with me? At least until morning." She asked him. She didn't want to be left alone with her thoughts. Sherlock nodded. They went to his bedroom, he took his jacket off and hung it on a coat rack. Removing his shoes and going over to his window to close the curtains. He sat at the end of the bed, prepared to keep watch all night. Céline giggled a bit. He blushed and turned to her.

"What?" He asked. Céline tugged at his arm.

"Lie down." She asked. He obeyed. "Look at me." He obeyed again and they stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. Céline soon nuzzled closer to him. Sherlock, against his better judgment given the current circumstances he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

"Sherlock." She began. He rubbed her back.

"Yes?" He asked. Céline was lost in thought for a moment.

"On second thought, I'm not certain that it's appropriate right now." She replied. Sherlock frowned and shifted their bodies. She now was laying with her back to the sheets and he hovered over her, resting on his arm. He looked at her and tilted his head slightly.

"Just tell me." He spoke. Céline softly smiled as she studied his lips. She placed her hand on his face and traced his lip with her thumb.

"I love you, Sherlock." Céline softly spoke. Sherlock smiled a bit and took her hand, kissing it.

"Céline...I..." Sherlock began, trailing off. After a moment he spoke up again. "Céline...I'm frightened." He replied.

"Why?" Céline asked, cupping his face.

"I…" Sherlock began. Before he could reply Watson returned to the apartment.

"Sherlock!" Watson shouted as he came up the stairs. Sherlock kissed her forehead.

"We can continue this later, once I've figured all of this mess out," Sherlock whispered before standing and leaving to go see Watson.


	21. The Great Game 8

The next day at the crack of dawn Sherlock was thrust into the final two cases. The first was of a man named Alex Woodbridge, a security guard of a gallery murdered by the Golemn for uncovering a plot that one of the new paintings at the gallery was fake. The victim who was being threatened was a young boy. Sherlock solved the case with evidenced found at a planetarium and the boy was saved. Quickly after Sherlock and Watson finally came together on the case of the missing memory stick and the murder of Andrew West that Watson had been investigating. Watson and Sherlock had just returned to 221b Baker Street, it was late afternoon, a few hours after saving the boy with the fourth case.

"Distraction over, the game continues," Sherlock observed as he sat with the pink phone. Watson frowned.

"Well, maybe that's over, too. We've heard nothing from the bomber since this afternoon." Watson offered. Sherlock stood and went to the fridge, grabbing an icepack.

"Five pips, remember, John? It's a countdown. We've only had four." Sherlock spoke as he took the icepack to his room. Céline was asleep. Sherlock kissed the top of her head and switched out the icepack that she was using for her stomach. He returned to the kitchen and placed the old icepack back into the freezer. Watson watched him.

"So you two…" Watson began.

"Yes," Sherlock answered, curtly. "Don't expect anything to change, we have decided to be quite private."

"Yes…" Watson trailed off. "I'm just surprised is all….since when?"

"Since…oh what did you call it? The Blind Banker?" Sherlock replied.

"Are you happy?" Watson asked.

"Why are you so curious?" Sherlock spoke. Watson shrugged.

"I just am. Friends are curious." Watson responded. Sherlock eyed him and nodded.

"I am happy." He replied, a smile crossing his lips. Watson saw the smile and was happy to see it. Sherlock turned on the telly to pass the time. Watson began to type at his blog. A few hours later it was night. Sherlock was watching the Jeremy Kyle show, getting frustrated.

"No, no, no! Of course, he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!" Sherlock snapped, angry. Watson sigh and turned to look at him.

"I knew it was dangerous." Watson frowned.

"What?" Sherlock asked, getting up to switch out Céline's icepacks again.

"Getting you into crap telly," Watson spoke. Sherlock ignored him and went to change out her icepack. Céline was still fast asleep. He returned to put the old icepack into the freezer. "Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?" Watson asked.

"Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood again." Sherlock frowned, switching through channels absentmindedly until he returned to the Jeremy Kyle show. Watson got up and put away his laptop. "I won't be in for tea. I'm going to Sarah's. There's still some of that risotto left in the fridge." Watson spoke. "Oh and milk. We need milk."

"I'll get some," Sherlock spoke.

"Really?" Watson asked, surprised.

"Really. I have to get Céline's prescription once the shop opens anyway." Sherlock responded, not looking away from the telly.

"And some beans, then?" Watson asked before leaving.

"Yes, yes," Sherlock spoke. Watson thanked him and left. After watching another half-hour episode Sherlock jumped up and checked the laptop. He thought for a moment before typing.

 _Found, Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. The Pool. Midnight._

Sherlock set the laptop down and got up to check on Céline. She stirred when he came in.

"Sherlock?" She softly asked. He knelt beside the bed and nodded.

"It's me." Sherlock smiled, stroking her hair. "Do you need anything? I'm going out for a while."

"No, just hurry back." Céline smiled, giving him a small kiss on the lips. Sherlock nodded and switched out her ice pack one more time before leaving to the swimming pool. It was the swimming pool that Carl Powers had been killed in. Sherlock arrived at exactly midnight. He pulled out the memory stick and looked around.

"I brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles; making me dance all to distract me from this." Sherlock shouted into the darkness. Sherlock suddenly heard a door open behind him. He turned and was taken aback. Watson walked out. He was wearing a large winter coat, his hands were in the pockets.

"Evening," Watson spoke. "This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?" Sherlock noticed the sweat on Watson's forehead and frowned.

"John. What the hell." Sherlock spoke.

"Bet you never saw this coming," Watson spoke, he removed his hands from his pockets and revealed that there was a bomb strapped to his chest. Sherlock felt his stomach churn. A red snipers laser rested on Watson's chest. "What would you like me to make him say next?" Sherlock took a step toward him,

"Stop this!" Sherlock shouted into the room.

"Nice touch, this, the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart, like I should have done with Céline." Watson spoke, still being prompted.

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked as he looked around. A door opened across the pool and Sherlock eagerly looked over. Molly's boyfriend Jim stepped out.

"I gave you my number. I thought you might call." Jim spoke, he walked around the pool until he stood in front of Sherlock and Watson. "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?" Sherlock removed the pistol, his eyes were filled with anger.

"Both." Sherlock frowned.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi!" Moriarty explained. Sherlock didn't say anything, he was blinded with anger. This was the man who beat Céline, and now he was threatening Watson. "Jim? Jim from the hospital?" Moriarty continued. Sherlock raised his other hand to support the gun. "Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point. Your girlfriend was onto me though. I gave her quite a fright. I suppose I should have waited before sizing her up." Sherlock glared, the laser suddenly moved and confused him. He looked back at Watson. Moriarty laughed.

"Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty." Moriarty explained. "I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see, like you." Sherlock's eyes grew wide, he suddenly realized what Moriarty meant.

"Dear Jim. Please, will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister? Dear Jim. Please, will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?" Sherlock spoke. Moriarty nodded. "Consulting criminal," Sherlock observed.

"Isn't it brilliant? No one ever gets to me, and no one ever will." Moriarty triumphantly spoke.

"I did," Sherlock spoke, cocking the gun. Moriarty laughed.

"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way. The flirting's over, Sherlock, daddy's had enough now! I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off…" As Moriarty spoke he walked close to Sherlock, unafraid of the gun he held. "Although I have loved this, this little game of ours. Playing Jim from I.T. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"People have died." Sherlock snapped. Moriarty suddenly became aggressive.

"That's what people DO!" Moriarty screamed at the top of his lungs, the words echoing in the swimming pool.

"I will stop you," Sherlock spoke.

"No, you won't." Moriarty smiled. Sherlock tried to offer the memory stick.

"Take it," Sherlock spoke. "Take it and let us leave."Moriarty grabbed the memory stick and quickly tosses it into the pool. Sherlock and Watson both jumped in shock.

"Boring! I could have got them anywhere. Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you." Moriarty asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Oh, let me guess, I get killed," Sherlock answered.

"Killed, no no, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway, someday, don't want to rush it, though, saving it up for something special." Morality chuckled to himself as he spoke. "No, if you don't stop prying, I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you." Sherlock frowned.

"I am reliably informed I don't have one." Sherlock retorted.

"But we both know that's not quite true." Moriarty took a step closer to Sherlock, now he was right in Sherlock's face. "Tell me, if I do touch her again will you kill me?"

"I will," Sherlock replied. Moriarty giggled.

"Well, I'd better be off." Moriarty began to walk back the same path where he came. "Well, so nice to have had a proper chat." Moriarty shrugged. Sherlock frowned. Moriarty completely left and Sherlock rushed over to Watson when the laser disappeared. He helped him get the vest off and tossed it away.

"Are you all right?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah-yeah, I'm fine," Watson spoke, catching his breath. "Oh, Christ….Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Fine." Sherlock spoke. Suddenly two snipers rearmed at Watson and aimed at Sherlock. Moriarty strolled back in.

"Sorry, boys! I'm so changeable!" Moriarty spoke in delight. "It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!" Moriarty spoke.

"Probably my answer has crossed yours." Sherlock snapped. Suddenly Moriarty's phone rang.

"Do you mind if I get that?" Moriarty asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"No, no, please. You've got the rest of your life." Sherlock sarcastically spoke. Moriarty answered the phone.

"Hello? ... Yes, of course, it is. What do you want?" Moriarty began, another voice spoke for awhile making him gasp. "Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will skin you!" The voice spoke a little longer. "Wait one moment." Moriarty muted the phone and turned his attention to Sherlock and Watson. "Sorry. Wrong day to die."

"Oh. Did you get a better offer?" Sherlock asked. Moriarty unmuted the phone and began to walk away. "You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock!"


	22. A Scandal In Belgravia 1

More chapters coming tomorrow puddin's!

* * *

Céline laid in bed, lost in thought. She struggled to sit up on one arm, her body was aching and sore. It was 3 am. Céline frowned, she hoped Sherlock was alright. She laid back down into bed, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes tight. Her mind wandered about the man, Jim. Everything confused her. Her and Sherlock were so careful and she was certain that the man wasn't working for Mycroft. He knew about their relationship, he knew about her father, he knew about her past relationship with Lestrade. She wondered how. His eyes were something that stood out to her, from the second she met him at the lab, they were filled with such anger and such jealously. Céline checked the time again, she was getting anxious and decided to text Sherlock.

 _You alright?_

She placed her phone beside the pillow, waiting for a response. When Sherlock was there they could talk about it. Hopefully, the mess of the past couple days would be over when he returned home. The phone buzzed.

 _Getting a taxi home with John. I'm alright._

Céline let out a thankful sigh and tried to lay back and relax but her mind kept thinking about what the man said.

 _"I want to know how such a plain woman gets a man like Sherlock Holmes."_

 _"I thought the woman Sherlock fell in love with was smarter than this."_

 _"He's so eager for a virgin."_

 _"You don't deserve him."_

 _"I hate you."_

She felt a cold chill go down her spine, it was fear. For a split second, she wondered if she should even continue this relationship with Sherlock. But she quickly shook it off. She loved him, she didn't want to leave but she was very afraid of what this man might try. Of what he could do to her. The front door opened. Céline heard voices and steps coming up to the apartment and thankfully sat up.

"I'm going to bed," Sherlock spoke to Watson. Watson nodded and went to the kitchen. Sherlock rushed to the bedroom. Céline sat up to greet him.

* * *

An hour later Sherlock had finished recounting the events of the evening to Céline. They were laying in each other's arms in bed. It was dark. The only light came from the streetlamps and shone in through the window. Céline was feeling uneasy.

"I think the game is over, for now." Sherlock softly spoke. He stood up to close the window. The room was pitch black when he draped the curtain across the window. Céline held Sherlock tight when he got back into bed.

"Sherlock, I'm frightened," Céline spoke in barely a whisper. Sherlock didn't reply at first, he just tightened his hold on her.

"Céline, I won't let him hurt you again. I promise." Sherlock finally spoke. In the hallway, Watson curiously stopped at the door and tried to listen in on them. He heard them whispering to each other and smiled before going to bed. "Tell me, what did he do to you? What did he say?" Sherlock asked. Céline took a deep breath.

"He...he kept asking me about you, about our relationship and how far..." Céline began before trailing off.

"How far…" Sherlock repeated frowning. He sat up in bed. Céline watched him, her head rested on the pillow. "Céline, I want you to be honest with me."

"Alright," Céline replied, a bit confused. Sherlock didn't look at her, he just stared ahead.

"Do you still want to be with me?" Sherlock asked. "I understand if…" Céline sat up as he spoke and laid her head on his back.

"Of course I still want to be with you." She replied.

* * *

The next afternoon Sherlock and Céline returned to her apartment. When she went into the front door she froze up. Thinking about the frightening encounter with the hitman. Sherlock watched her for a moment before beginning to clean up. Céline wandered to the bedroom and began putting everything back in order. Her thoughts kept wandering back to the fight. By the time she had put her bedroom back together, Sherlock had picked up the kitchen and living room. When he went to go and see her she was sitting on the floor, her back against the bed.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked, kneeling beside her. Céline shrugged.

"I'm tired, the bruises still hurt." She softly spoke. Sherlock frowned and picked her up, laying her on the bed.

"Rest here for a while." Sherlock softly spoke, Céline nodded and closed her eyes as he went to the kitchen to make her tea. When evening came Sherlock and Céline were playing chess together in bed. In another place in London, two women were in a large bedroom in a fancy hotel suite. Irene Adler was with a client. She circled the bed as she played with a riding crop, gazing at the woman on the bed.

"Well now. Have you been wicked, Your Highness?" Irene cooed. She looked down at the foot of the bed, checking the ankle ties on her client.

"Yes, Miss. Adler…" The woman replied.


	23. A Scandal In Belgravia 2

This chapter has me blushing puddin's! I hope you enjoy!

* * *

When Céline returned to work the following week things were uncomfortable between her and Lestrade. She tried to just quickly finish her work and head home. But to her dismay, at the end of the day, she and Lestrade ended up in the elevator together. Céline stood behind him. It was quiet for a long moment. The tension was thick.

"How are you feeling?" Lestrade finally asked, turning to look back at her.

"Alright," Céline replied. All of her bruises were finally gone and she was able to move properly again. Lestrade nodded before biting his lip.

"So…it was Sherlock," Lestrade asked, he seemed scared of the answer.

"Yes. It is him." Céline replied. Her gut tightened when she saw the look of despair on Lestrade's face. Before she could say anything else the elevator door opened and Lestrade muttered a goodbye before rushing out. Céline watched him go as she left. When she got outside she hailed a taxi home. Sherlock had left her a note on the kitchen counter.

 _Will return soon._

He had been at 221b Baker Street all day. Watson had started booking him consulting clients. He would take 20-30 a day and answer their questions. This, as well as the two's work, continued to build a steady fanbase for Sherlock centered around Watson's blog. Céline smiled at the note and set it down before making dinner and eating. She decided to take a shower when she was done. Right after the final client, Sherlock rushed out of 221b Baker Street to see Céline. When he got to her apartment and took off his coat, he heard the shower running and blushed before sitting on the couch. After a few minutes it turned off and he heard Céline rummaging around in the bathroom before emerging in a towel. She jumped when she saw him.

"Sherlock, you could have given me a heart attack." Céline laughed before going into her bedroom. Sherlock followed.

"No, I couldn't have…." Sherlock began. Céline cut him off with a kiss before she could go into detail. Sherlock kissed back, wrapping his arms around her waist. He was being careful of the towel. When they pulled away Céline smiled and cupped his face for a moment before going to look for night clothes to wear.

"How were the cases?" She curiously asked. Sherlock sat. The sun had begun setting and golden light poured in through the window.

"Dull." He flatly answered. Céline took off her towel to change when she found something to wear. Sherlock's eyes grew wide and he quickly turned his gaze away. Céline noticed as she changed and laughed.

"What?" She asked, blushing. Sherlock swallowed nervously.

"I…" He began, not knowing what to say. Céline walked over and turned his face to look at her as she stood in front of him.

"You've nearly seen me nude before," Céline spoke, her eyes bright with mischief.

"Nearly," Sherlock emphasized. She noticed his eyes wander to her body for a slight moment.

"Sherlock?" Céline began. Sherlock tilted his head.

"Yes." He asked.

"Do you want to make love to me?" Céline bluntly asked. Sherlock turned bright red

"Céline…" He began, not knowing what to say to the request. Céline was endeared by how embarrassed he was. She straddled him and pressed her forehead to his. Sherlock gently grabbed her hips.

"Have you made love to a woman?" She asked. Their faces were inches apart. Sherlock shook his head no. "We don't have to if…"

"If what?" He asked. She could feel his breath on her lips.

"If you're too scared to," Céline replied. Sherlock tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's not that," Sherlock spoke. "I want to make love to you." Céline blushed, she brought her hands to his face and cupped it. "But…"

"But?" Céline asked. Sherlock seemed nervous and hesitant to talk.

"What if I'm a terrible shag?" Sherlock suddenly asked, concerned. Céline laughed, tears of amusement pricked up as she laughed. It made him blush. "Do you think so?"

"No, of course not," Céline replied, wiping the laughing tears away. Sherlock watched her. She was beautiful. His nerves suddenly subsided. He suddenly wanted this more than anything in the world. Céline blushed at the suddenly serious look on his face.

"Sherlock what is…" Before she could finish speaking Sherlock took her face into his hands and kissed her deeply. As they continued to kiss, Sherlock let his hands wander across her body. When she pulled away for air he laid her down on the bed before going to her window and closing the blinds. The room was dark now, the sun had fully set. Sherlock lit the candle that was on her bedside table before returning. He crawled over her on the bed and ran his hand up her thigh, kissing her deeply. He felt goosebumps prick up on her skin and they pricked up on his own as well. As the kissed Céline's hands went to his shirt and she began to unbutton it.

Making love to Sherlock Holmes was far different than making love to any other man. While this was the first time he had sex, he understood the female body in and out and that made him devastating. When they had finished they both laid sweaty and breathless in bed. Sherlock's head rested against Céline's bare chest. He timed his breathing with the rise and fall of her chest as Céline caught her breath. He sat up on his forearm and looked at her. Her eyes were closed and her face was flushed a deep red color. The candlelight glistened off of the sweat on her skin. He loved it. Her eyes opened and she looked at him, the two shared a smile as Sherlock pressed his forehead to hers. Making love unlocked a new level of closeness for the two. Sherlock had never had a sexual relationship with another person before this and this was very new to him. The two became curious and began to make love daily in all kinds of ways. It was a way for him to express his love to her without saying I love you.

* * *

A month passed and it was soon the end of May. Sherlock and Céline continued their daily routine of lovemaking but Sherlock had still been unable to say I love you to her. Sherlock and Watson were currently in the midst of solving a murder case involving a man found dead in the middle of a field. Mycroft had interrupted and brought the two to Buckingham Palace for an inquiry regarding a client of his. Sherlock and Watson were sitting on a couch waiting for Mycroft to show up. Sherlock was naked except for a sheet. Watson couldn't help but noticed love bites on his lower neck and upper chest, as well as, half moon nail scratches on his shoulders and arms where Céline had held onto him during lovemaking.

"What are you looking at?" Sherlock asked as Watson studied his markings. Watson blushed and crossed his arms.

"Nothing…are you wearing any pants?" Watson asked, nervously looking around at the palace. Sherlock kept his gaze straight forward.

"No," Sherlock replied. Watson turned bright red.

"Okay." Watson managed to say. The two looked at each other after a long pause and both burst into laughter. "At Buckingham Palace, fine," Watson spoke through the laughter. He looked around the room again. "Oh, I'm seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray…so, what are we doing here, Sherlock? Seriously, what?" Sherlock shrugged.

"Apparently we are here to see the queen," Sherlock sarcastically spoke. Mycroft walked in and frowned at the two. He held a pile of clothes for his brother. Watson and Sherlock continued to giggle. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups?" Mycroft scolded, crossing his arms.

"We solve crimes, I blog about it and he forgets his pants, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope," Watson replied. Sherlock nodded in agreement before getting annoyed.

"I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft." Sherlock snapped. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"What, the hiker and the backfire? I asked Céline for the report and glanced it over. Bit obvious, surely?" Mycroft replied, perking an eyebrow. Sherlock glared.

"Transparent," Sherlock responded.

"Time to move on, then," Mycroft spoke before holding out the clothes for Sherlock. Sherlock gave them a glance but didnt move to take them. "We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes put your trousers on."

"What for?" Sherlock asked, shrugging.

"Your client." Mycroft snapped back.

"And my client is?" Sherlock asked.

"Illustrious." A man who entered spoke. "In the extreme. And remaining, I have to inform you, entirely anonymous." The man turned to Mycroft.

"Harry. May I just apologize for the state of my little brother?" Mycroft spoke, shaking the man's hand. The man shrugged knowingly.

"Full-time occupation, I imagine." He replied. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

 _"_ And this must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers." The man observed. Watson stood to greet him and they shook hands. "My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog."

"Thank you!" Watson smirked. The man glanced past Watson at Sherlock and eyed him.

"And Mr. Holmes the younger. You look taller in your photographs." He observed. Sherlock shrugged, standing.

"I take the precaution of a good coat and a short friend." Sherlock snapped before getting into Mycroft's face. "Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to a mystery at one end of my cases. Both ends are too much work." Once he finished speaking he stormed off but Mycroft stepped on the sheet that covered his naked body. Sherlock barely covered himself back up.

"This is a matter of national importance. Grow up." Mycroft snapped.

"Get off my sheet," Sherlock growled. Mycroft smirked.

"Or what?" Mycroft challenged.

"Or I'll just walk away." Sherlock threatened. Watson watched the two men.

"I'll let you," Mycroft growled at the threat. Watson nervously looked around.

"Boys, please. Not here." Watson suggested.

"Who is my client?" Sherlock sternly asked again, ignoring Watson.

"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake put your clothes on!" Mycroft snapped.

* * *

Céline was downstairs in line at the coffee shop. She didn't notice that a woman, Irene, was watching her from a car outside.

"Is that her?" Irene asked her driver. The driver nodded.

"Yes." They replied. Irene scoffed.

"I must say, I expected more." Irene spat before having the driver take her back to her home so she could get ready.


	24. A Scandal In Belgravia 3

A while later Sherlock and Watson were sitting in an office with Mycroft. The men all watched eachother, there was a pot of tea sitting at the table between them. Mycroft finally grabbed the teapot.

"I'll be mother." Mycroft exasparatedly spoke, pouring the tea. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell." Sherlock sarcastically quipped. The man who was with Mycroft cleared his throat nervously.

"My employer has a problem…" He began before Mycroft cut him off.

"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen." Mycroft finished. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Why? You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?" Sherlock asked, annoyed. The man looked confused.

"People do come to you for help, don't they, Mr Holmes?" He asked.

"Not, to date, anyone with a Navy." Sherlock quickly retorted. Before the man could say anything Mycroft spoke up.

"This is a matter of the highest security, and therefore of trust." Mycroft replied. Watson scoffed.

"You don't trust your own Secret Service?" Watson asked.

"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money." Mycroft matter-of-factly spoke.

"I do think we have a timetable." The man cut in again, wanting to get on topic.

"Yes, of course…" Mycroft spoke as he took a photograph from a file and passed it over to Sherlock. Sherlock took it and perked an eyebrow. "What do you know about this woman?"

"Nothing." Sherlock spoke, tossing the photograph onto the desk.

"Then you should be paying more attention." Mycroft quipped. "She's been at the centre of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately."

"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?" Sherlock snapped, not caring about the affair.

"Irene Adler, professionally known as The Woman." Mycroft replied.

"Professionally?" Watson curiously asked.

"There are many names for what she does. She prefers dominatrix." Mycroft explained. Sherlock blushed a bit, his thoughts drifting to Céline. Mycroft noticed and perked an eyebrow. "Sherlock, don't be alarmed. It's to do with sex." Mycroft slyly spoke. Sherlock frowned.

"Sex doesn't alarm me." Sherlock snapped back. Mycroft crossed his arms, thinking back to the love bites and nail markings he saw earlier when Sherlock was in the seat.

"Oh yes, I suppose I should have know seeing how marked up you are." Mycroft snidely remakes. Watson turned red and cleared his throat. Sherlock crossed his arms and frowned. "Anyway, she provides, shall we say, recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it. These are all from her website." Mycroft went to pass Sherlock photos from her website but he didn't take them. He didn't want to see them.

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs." Sherlock spoke, keeping his gaze fixed on his brother.

"You're very quick, Mr Holmes." The man spoke, dumbfounded.

"Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft put the photographs back in the file.

"A person of significance to my employer. We'd prefer not to say any more at this time." The man spoke. Watson and Sherlock both exchanged an annoyed glance.

 _"_ You can't tell us anything?" Watson asked.

"I can tell you it's a young person." Mycroft spoke. Watson turned red. "A young female person." Mycroft emphasized.

 _"_ How many photographs?" Sherlock asked.

"A considerable number, apparently." Mycroft responded. Sherlock rolled his eyes, this was dull to him.

"Do Miss Adler and this young female person appear in these photographs together?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, they do." Mycroft replied. Watson was blushing and staring blankly forward.

"And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios." Sherlock observed.

"An imaginative range, we are assured." Mycroft nodded. Watson's teacup was up as if he was about to drink but he was lost in thought.

"John, you might want to put that cup back in your saucer now." Sherlock snapped. Watson quickly snapped back to reality and did as told.

 _"_ Will you take the case Mr. Holmes?" The man asked, eager for his help. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"What case? Pay her, now and in full. Know when you are beaten." Sherlock flatly spoke, going to grab his coat.

 _"_ She doesn't want anything." Mycroft spoke. This caught Sherlock's interest.

"She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favour." Mycroft spoke. Sherlock crossed his arms in thought.

"Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix. Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it?" Sherlock smirked. "Where is she?"

"In London currently. She's staying…" Mycroft began as Sherlock sat up and pulled his coat on.

"Text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day." Sherlock cut Mycroft off.

"Do you really think you'll have news by then?" The man stood, excited. Sherlock shrugged.

"No, I think I'll have the photographs." Sherlock flatly spoke, taking out his phone to text Céline.

"One can only hope you're as good as you seem to think…" The man spoke. Sherlock ignored him and sent a text to Céline.

 _On an interesting case, will be home late. Will you stay at 221 tonight? Can you come by after work?_

"I'll need some equipment, of course." Sherlock spoke. Mycroft nodded.

"Anything you require. I'll have it sent to…" Mycroft began. Sherlock shook his head.

"Can I have a box of matches? Or your cigarette lighter. Either will do." Sherlock spoke, directing the question to the man.

 _"_ I don't smoke." The man defensively spoke.

"No, I know _you_ don't, but your employer does." Sherlock shrugged. The man took his lighter from his pocket and passed it over.

"We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Mr Holmes." The man frowned.

"I'm not the Commonwealth." Sherlock spoke, putting the lighter into his pocket. His phone rang and he walked away. Watson followed close behind. Céline had texted him back.

 _I just got off work I'll head over. I will stay over tonight._


	25. A Scandal In Belgravia 4

Céline hailed a taxi from outside of Scotland Yard after replying to Sherlock's text.

"221b Baker Street please." She softly spoke toward the driver. As they took off she noticed a woman snapping photographs of her from another car and frowned turning to look back at her. But before she could get a good look of her face the car had taken off.

The photographs of Céline, as well as photos of Sherlock leaving Buckingham Palace, were sent to Irene'sphone. Irene was sitting on her bed thumbing through them. When she got to the ones of Céline she frowned, she couldn't understand why Sherlock had picked her.

"Kate!" Irene suddenly called. Kate hurried in. "We're going to have a visitor. I'll need a bit of time to get ready." Irene spoke, smiling. Kate walked up behind her.

"A long time?" Kate asked.

"Ages!" Irene smirked before rushing to her closet.

* * *

At 221b Baker Street Céline sat in Sherlock's bed as Sherlock searched for something to wear. He had explained the case to her and she found it interesting. Watson came inside.

"What are you doing?" Watson asked. Céline giggled.

"Going into battle, John. I need the right armor." Sherlock spoke, emerging from the bathroom wearing a bright yellow jacket. "Céline?" Sherlock turned to her, showing it off. She studied it and shook her head.

"No," Céline spoke. Sherlock agreed and began rummaging through his closet again. Watson went back into the front room to type up a blog entry as Céline and Sherlock continued to pick an outfit. After a little while, Sherlock decided to wear what he usually did.

"Are you coming?" Sherlock asked, sitting beside her on the bed.

"Probably not. I have some work to do." Céline replied as Sherlock cupped her face.

"Mycroft saw your markings," Sherlock spoke. Céline giggled.

"Sorry, I thought you wanted me to…" Céline began, thinking back to the previous night.

"I did," Sherlock replied. "Are you sure you don't want to come?" He asked again. Céline gave him a light kiss.

"I want to. But I can't." Céline spoke. Sherlock pouted a bit and Céline laughed. "You'll see me tonight." She reassured him.

"You're staying here?" Sherlock asked. Céline nodded.

"I'll be right here waiting for you." She smiled. Sherlock kissed her one more time. Watson walked in as they were kissing and nervously hurried out, muttering a sorry. Céline and Sherlock also quickly pulled away and exchanged a glance before getting up to leave. Céline walked home and Sherlock and Watson took a taxi.

"So, what's the plan?" Watson asked. Sherlock shrugged.

"We know her address." Sherlock spoke. Watson laughed.

"What, just ring her doorbell?" Watson asked. Sherlock nodded.

"Exactly," Sherlock spoke, he turned his attention to the cab driver. "Just here, please."

"You didn't even change your clothes." Watson protested. Sherlock nodded.

"Then it's time to add a splash of colour." Sherlock spoke. They got out and wandered into an alleyway.

"Are we here?" Watson asked, confused. Sherlock nodded.

"Two streets away, but this'll do…Punch me in the face." Sherlock suddenly asked. Watson was surprised.

"Punch you?" Watson asked. Sherlock nodded.

"Yes. Punch me, in the face. Didn't you hear me?" Sherlock snapped impatiently. Watson was still taken aback.

"I always hear 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext." Watson spoke. Sherlock frowned.

"Oh, for God's sakes." Sherlock began before punching Watson in the face. Watson flew back and caught himself. Before he could process through what happened he quickly punched Sherlock back.

* * *

After a brief tussle, Sherlock and Watson hurried two streets down to Irene's house. Sherlock rang the doorbell.

"Hello?" Irene's assistant Kate asked, as she listened through the call box. Sherlock began to act as if he was distressed and flustered.

 _"_ Ooh! Um, sorry to disturb you. Um, I've just been attacked, um, and, I think they...they took my wallet and, um, and my phone. Umm, please could you help me?" Sherlock asked.

 _"_ I can phone the police if you want." The woman nonchalantly replied.

"Thank you, thank you! Could you, please?" Sherlock asked again. "Oh, would you ... would you mind if I just waited here, just until they come? Thank you. Thank you so much." Sherlock continued as the woman opened the door to let them in. Sherlock and Watson both tumbled in. Sherlock began to mutter thanks. Watson followed.

"I…I saw it all happen. It's okay, I'm a doctor." Watson spoke. "Now, have you got a first aid kit?" The woman nodded and led Watson to the kitchen after ushering Sherlock into the front room. Sherlock sat and waited. After a few minutes of silence, he heard a voice in the other room.

"Hello. Sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name." Irene spoke, waiting to come in.

"I'm so sorry. I'm…" As Sherlock began to speak Irene walked in completely naked. Sherlock was taken aback and turned his gaze away. Irene frowned a bit when he looked away. He stuttered trying to say his alias.

"Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" Irene asked, turning his head to face her but Sherlock kept his eyes away. "Céline would be having a fit right now wouldn't she? Mr. Sherlock Holmes…" Sherlock frowned when she brought up Céline.

"Miss. Adler, I presume." Sherlock observed, looking at her face. He was trying to ignore her quip about Céline. Irene studied him with a look of admiration.

"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try? I see Céline doesn't appreciate them like I would." Irene spoke. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"No, thank you…" Before Sherlock could finish speaking Watson came in and jumped.

 _"_ I've missed something, haven't I?" Watson spoke, turning bright red. Irene smirked.

"Please, sit down," Irene spoke. "Oh, if you'd like some tea I can call the maid." Sherlock and Watson sat in silence with Irene for a long moment. Sherlock was trying to get a read on Irene but he could barely get anything. "Don't stare too much, what will Céline think?" Irene giggled. Watson crossed his arms and sent Sherlock a look. Sherlock quickly retorted back.

"You keep bringing her up but I don't see how she is relevant to this situation." Sherlock snapped. Irene smiled and perked a brow in thought.

"Oh, she's very relevant to this situation." Irene thoughtfully spoke. After another moment of silence, Irene spoke up again. "Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock just watched her, he didnt reply. "However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait."

"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?" Sherlock sarcastically responded. Irene laughed.

"No, I think you're damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself." Irene spoke, Sherlock rolled his eyes. Irene studied him closely. "Oh, and somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too." As Irene spoke she looked over at Watson. Watson nervously laughed.

"Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all. A napkin." Watson suggested. Irene watched him with a calculated glance.

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" Irene asked. Sherlock stood and removed his coat.

"I don't think John knows where to look," Sherlock spoke, handing his coat over. Irene ignored him and walked to Watson. Watson awkwardly shifted in his seat.

"No, I think he knows exactly where," Irene spoke. Sherlock cleared his throat and forced Irene to take the coat and she put it on. "I'm not sure about you." Irene flirty spoke too Sherlock.

"I see a naked woman quite frequently but thank you." Sherlock curtly spoke. This made Irene upset and she crossed her arms, sitting back down. Watson turned red again. "Besides, even if I didn't I could just borrow Watson's laptop."

"You do borrow my laptop." Watson retorted. Sherlock walked to the fireplace as Watson spoke.

"I confiscate it." Sherlock shrugged.

 _"_ Well, never mind. We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me, I need to know." Irene spoke, changing the subject. "How was it done?" Sherlock frowned and turned toward her

"What?" He asked. Irene took off her shoes.

"The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?" Irene asked. Sherlock and Watson exchanged a glance.

 _"_ That's not why I'm here." Sherlock replied, crossing his arms.

"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs but that's never gonna happen, and since we're here just chatting anyway…" Irene continued.

"That story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" Watson asked. Irene shrugged.

"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes." Irene explained. Watson cleared his throat nervously.

"Oh." Watson spoke. Irene turned back to Sherlock.

"I like policemen just fine but. What I really like is detective stories and detectives. Brainy's the new sexy." Irene winked. Sherlock ignored her flirting. "Okay, tell me: how was he murdered?" Irene pressed.

"He wasn't." Sherlock responded, gazing around the room. Irene was interested in this.

"You don't think it was murder? How?" Irene asked. Sherlock shook his head.

"The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room." Sherlock replied. Irene ignored the comment about the photographs.

"Okay, but how?" Irene asked. Sherlock smirked.

"So they _are_ in this room. Thank you. John, man the door. Let no-one in." Sherlock spoke. Watson nodded and left after the two exchanged a glance about their plan. Watson got up and left to the hallway and lit a newspaper on fire. Irene sat up and frowned, looking at Sherlock. Sherlock took out his phone to text Céline the estimated time he would be back at 221b Baker Street.

"Is that her you're talking to?" Irene asked. Sherlock looked at her after he sent a text.

"It might be," Sherlock spoke.

"She's a girl. I wonder what you might do with a real woman." Irene cruelly spoke. Sherlock scoffed.

"Céline is as much a woman as you are." Sherlock snapped back. Irene pouted a bit.

"She's a bit plain for my taste." Irene quipped.

"Well, she isn't for mine," Sherlock responded. Before Irene could say something else the fire alarm went off. Watson had used the newspaper to set it off. Sherlock quickly followed her gaze to the mirror and smirked. "Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities." As Sherlock spoke he wandered over to the mirror and placed his fingers under the mantelpiece until he found an opening. The opening had a small button and when pressed a wall safe was revealed behind the mirror. "All right, John, you can turn it off now," Sherlock shouted. As Watson attempted to turn the fire alarm off two men emerged with guns and Watson raised his arms.


	26. A Scandal In Belgravia 5

Sherlock was standing at the keypad. Trying to think of the code.

"Hmm. Should always use gloves with these things, you know. Heaviest oil deposit's always on the first key used, that's quite clearly the three but after that, the sequence is almost impossible to read. I'd say from the make that it's a six digit code. Can't be your birthday, no disrespect but clearly, you were born in the eighties; the eight's barely used, so…" Sherlock trailed off. Irene watched him.

"I'd tell you the code right now but you know what? I already have." Irene spoke. Sherlock gave her a confused look. "Think." Irene encouraged. Suddenly a group of men came in with guns. Watson was being led by a man with a gun at his back.

"Hands behind your head. On the floor. Keep it still." The leader barked. Watson and Sherlock exchanged a look.

 _"_ Sorry, Sherlock," Watson spoke. Sherlock raised his hands. The leader looked at Irene.

"Miss. Adler, on the floor." He snapped before turning his attention to Sherlock. "Now open the safe." Sherlock perked his eyebrow.

"American. Interesting. Why would _you_ care?" Sherlock curiously asked.

"Sir, the safe, _now_ , please." The man snapped. Sherlock shrugged.

"I don't know the code." Sherlock honestly spoke. The man scoffed.

"We've been listening. She said she told you." The man snapped.

"Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she _didn't_." Sherlock snapped back.

"I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you _didn't_ , Mr. Holmes." The man spoke. Watson frowned.

"For God's sake. _She's_ the one who knows the code. Ask her." Watson snapped, gesturing to Irene. The man turned toward Watson, annoyed.

"Yes, sir. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman." The man spoke before turning to look at Sherlock. After a moment of silence, he frowned and spoke up again. "Mr. Archer. At the count of three, shoot Doctor Watson." Watson felt panicked.

"What?" Watson snapped as the guard beside him pressed the gun into his neck.

"I don't have the code." Sherlock continued. The man began a countdown. When he got to three Sherlock realized that the code was Irene's measurements and he raised his arms. "No, stop!" Sherlock walked over to the safe and pressed in the measurements. He felt Irene's gaze on the back of his neck and frowned. Irene felt triumphant.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Open it, please." The man spoke. Sherlock saw a tripwire that would set off a gun in the safe. He kicked it over and the gunshot hit the leader in the chest. Sherlock rushed to grab his pistol and Irene and Watson also fought off the other two guards.

* * *

Céline was getting together clothes for the next morning. She began to feel anxious. Ever since the incident with Moriarty her anxiety had been really bad. Sherlock frequently had to help her out of panic attacks and one was starting up again. Céline steadied herself and slowly sat on the ground before pulling her knees to her chest. Her vision began to get blurry and she began to feel motion sick. Tears filled her eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" Céline softly whispered to herself. "There is nothing here to be scared of." She tried to talk herself out of it but soon she was laying on the ground-hugging herself, trying to wait out the anxiety attack. When it was over a few minutes later she slowly got up and moved to lay in bed. Her head was pounding. She looked up a therapist's office on her phone and hesitantly called the line to set an appointment for later that week. She couldn't go on like this.

* * *

"Thank you. You were very observant." Irene spoke to Sherlock when the guards were taken care of, speaking of her measurements. Sherlock turned red, he was annoyed that she brought it up.

"Observant?" Watson asked confused.

"I'm flattered," Irene spoke. "How do they compare to hers?"

"Don't be flattered." Sherlock snapped, ignoring Irene's question. Watson was confused. "There'll be more of them. They'll be keeping an eye on the building." Sherlock spoke. Watson took out his phone.

"We should call the police," Watson observed. Sherlock nodded and shot the gun he grabbed from the leader into the air five times.

"On their way." Sherlock snapped. "John, check the rest of the house. See how they got in." Watson nodded and left. Sherlock then retrieved the camera phone that was sitting in the safe.

"Well, that's the knighthood in the bag," Sherlock spoke, studying the phone.

"Ah. And that's mine." Irene protested, holding out her hand to get the phone.

"All the photographs are on here, I presume," Sherlock asked, ignoring her.

"I have copies, of course." Irene lied. Sherlock smirked.

"No, you don't. You'll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink or connection. Unless the contents of this phone are probably unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them." Sherlock spoke.

"Who said I'm selling?" Irene asked. Sherlock crossed his arms.

"Well, why would _they_ be interested? Whatever's on the phone, it's clearly not just photographs." Sherlock spoke, gesturing to the guards around them. Irene rolled her eyes and stepped closer to him.

"That camera phone is my life, Mr. Holmes. I'd die before I let you take it. It's my protection." Irene spoke.

"It was your protection." Sherlock curtly spoke before turning to go after Watson. Irene followed him. He found him in the bedroom. Irene's assistant Kate was passed out.

"Must have come in this way," Watson spoke, showing Sherlock the bathroom window open. Irene wandered to Kate. "It's all right. She's just out cold." Watson spoke. Irene perked an eyebrow.

"Well, God knows she's used to that. There's a back door. Better check it, Doctor Watson." Irene spoke, wanting to be alone with Sherlock. Watson looked from Irene to Sherlock, not certain if he trusted them alone together. Sherlock nodded for him to go check the safe and Watson hesitantly left.

"Sure…" Watson spoke, hesitantly leaving. As he left Irene took a syringe from the dressing table drawer.

"You know, I like being alone with you," Irene spoke, walking close to Sherlock. Sherlock took a step back.

"I can't say I feel the same," Sherlock replied. Irene cooed and touched his chest, making him move back again.

"I can be good to you. I can be better than she is." Irene softly spoke. She suddenly lunged forward and kissed him on the lips. Sherlock went to push her away but as he did she stabbed the syringe into his arm. Sherlock fell backward.

"What? What is that?" Sherlock spoke, stumbling. The effects were immediate. Irene slapped Sherlock and held out her hand.

"Give it to me. Now. Give it to me." She snapped. Sherlock felt himself starting to lose control of his muscles. "Oh, for goodness' sake." Irene grabbed her riding crop and hit him with it, demanding the phone back. The final time she hit him Sherlock dropped the phone and fell back, falling unconscious.

"Thank you, dear," Irene spoke, typing some things. She removed the coat and tossed it onto the bed before pulling on a slip dress that was laid out on the bed. "Now tell that sweet little posh thing the pictures are safe with me. They're not for blackmail, just for insurance. Besides, I might want to see her again." Irene spoke. Sherlock tried to get up again. Irene knelt and pushed him down, cupping his face. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no. It's been a pleasure. Don't spoil it." Sherlock winced and tried to move away as she laid a kiss on his cheek. "This is how I want you to remember me. The woman who beat you." She whispered into his ear.

"John!" Sherlock tried to shout, but the words barely came out as he slept in and out of consciousness. As he did this Irene took his phone and added her number. Moaning into it to save her text tone. When she was finished she returned his phone to his coat pocket.

"Hush now," Irene spoke, leaning over Sherlock. She grabbed his coat from the bed and moved close again. Sherlock struggled. "It's okay. I'm only returning your coat."

"Céline..." Sherlock spoke, in protest at Irene's continued physical contact. "Céline's not here. And it really is better that way. Why don't you just focus on me?" Irene replied and then suddenly everything went black. Watson rushed in to see Irene sitting beside Sherlock.

"Jesus. What are you doing?" Watson snapped, observing the lipstick on Sherlock's face. He was angry at both of them.

"He'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse." Irene spoke before heading for the door.

"What's this? What have you given him? Sherlock!" Watson rushed over to him. "What did you two do?" Irene smirked

"He'll be fine. I've used it on loads of my friends…" Irene watched. "You know, I was wrong about him. He _did_ know where to look." Watson frowned at the statement and looked up at her. "The key code to my safe. It was my measurements." Irene explained. Watson looked at Sherlock in annoyance then back at Irene. "Do me a favor Doctor Watson and tell Céline for me," Irene spoke before leaving.


	27. A Scandal In Belgravia 6

Céline was sitting at Sherlock's bedside. It was a few hours later. Watson had told her everything. He was very upset with Sherlock for how he acted around Irene and felt it was unfair to Céline. Céline tried to brush it off. But after the anxiety attack and the bad day she had she was beginning to doubt herself and Sherlock's feelings for her. Céline studied Sherlock as he left. He had two lipstick markings on his face still from Irene. One on his lips and one on his cheek. Céline didn't know the circumstances and was confused by it. She couldn't understand why Sherlock would kiss another woman, even during a case. Sherlock began to stir and suddenly he jerked awake in fright.

"John? Céline? What!?" He stuttered as he looked around. Céline steadied him.

"It's okay!" Céline spoke as he looked around the room. He grabbed her.

"How did I get here?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, I suppose you don't remember much. You weren't making a lot of sense…John called me…" Céline spoke, she was eyeing the lipstick marks again but was trying to not show she was upset by it. Sherlock saw her eyes looking and he touched his mouth before getting up to look in the mirror. He frowned and quickly wiped off the lipstick before returning.

"Céline, this is nothing...she did it when I was..." Sherlock began. His phone cut him off, the ringtone was a woman, Irene, moaning in pleasure. Céline turned bright red and felt tears come to her eyes. Sherlock rushed over to her. "Céline don't cry...I can explain..." before he could continue speaking his phone rang again, the same orgasmic ringtone filling the room, and Céline rushed out of the room. Sherlock rushed after her. "Céline, wait! I mean it! It's nothing!" Sherlock argued as she hurried down the stairs, not bothering to put her coat on. He grabbed her arm before she left. Watson peeked down at them from the stairs after hearing the commotion. "Céline..."

"Let go of me," Céline replied, not looking at him. He saw that her face was red and her eyes were full of tears and he let go. She left and slammed the door behind her before taking off toward her flat. When she left Sherlock ran up the steps past Watson and went to look out the window. He watched her go until she turned down the street. Watson slowly came in.

"Don't say anything." Sherlock snapped at him. Watson frowned.

"You're the one who was acting like a jerk," Watson spoke. Sherlock turned to him.

"'Irene drugged me!" Sherlock snapped. His phone rang again and Watson was taken aback.

"No wonder Céline left," Watson observed. Sherlock ignored him and read the messages from Irene.

 _Tell her about my measurements_

 _She's really not right for you, let's get dinner_

 _Till the next time, Mr. Holmes_

Sherlock frowned and opened his phone texts, putting Irene's ring tone back to normal.

* * *

Céline spent the entire night awake crying. The next day she returned home at lunch because of a massive headache she had as a result of the went straight to bed. When she checked her phone she had multiple missed calls and messages from Sherlock. But she was ignoring him, she was certain that something happened with his female client Irene. It made her feel numb. She got up to draw the blinds and to turn off the lights. After, she went to the bathroom to wash off her makeup. As she studied herself in the mirror she began to cry.

"Such a plain woman." Céline softly spoke to herself, repeating the words Moriarty told her, starting at her reflection with a judgmental eye before returning to bed. She crawled under the covers and curled up. Her phone rang again. She grabbed it and pulled it into bed with her. It was Mycroft.

 _What happened_?

* * *

Mycroft went to 221b Baker Street the next morning to see how things went. The previous evening he had tried to talk it through with Céline. Mycroft didn't like seeing her upset. He was almost as annoyed with Sherlock as Watson was.

"The photographs are perfectly safe, Sherlock spoke to Mycroft. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker." Mycroft observed. Sherlock shook his head.

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants…protection for some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?" Sherlock spoke.

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied." Mycroft snapped.

"She'd applaud your choice of words." Sherlock quipped. Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "You see how this works: that camera phone is her "Get out of jail free" card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft."

"Well, what does Céline think of how close you and Irene are suddenly?" Mycroft spat. Sherlock glared at him.

"I never pictured you as a shoulder to cry on." Sherlock spat back. Mycroft shrugged.

"I wear many hats." Mycroft spoke back. Watson watched the two men from where he ate. Sherlock's phone went off and he looked at it. It was from Irene.

 _Good Morning, Mr. Holmes. So sorry you had to spend the night alone._

"Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess." Sherlock explained. He didn't text Irene back. Watson nodded.

"Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft." Watson quipped. Sherlock's phone rang again. It was from Irene.

 _Feeling better?_

Before Mycroft could say anything else his phone rang.

"Excuse me." Mycroft stepped into the hall to take the call. Sherlock's phone rang again, and again it was Irene.

 _I'm fine since you didn't ask._

"Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later." Mycroft spoke as he returned from the hall.

"What else does she have?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft looked at him with a blank face. "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more. Something big's coming, isn't it?" Mycroft prepared to leave.

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this." Mycroft snapped.

"Oh, will I?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, Sherlock, you will. Maybe you should go patch things up with Céline." Mycroft snapped. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend." Sherlock stood and grabbed his violin.

"Do give her my love." Sherlock sarcastically quipped beginning to play "God Save The Queen" before Mycroft left.

"He's right you know," Watson spoke after Mycroft left. "Are you just going to let Céline go over this woman?" Watson asked.

"No of course not." Sherlock snapped. "She's just not answering anything. I've been calling and texting like mad." Watson shrugged.

"You know where she works and where she lives, maybe pay a visit," Watson suggested.


	28. A Scandal In Belgravia 7

Céline didnt go to work the next day. She had booked the therapy appointment for the midday and when the time came to leave she begruginginly dragged herself out of bed and to a taxi. When she got to the office she nervously fidgeted in the waiting room. She checked her phone, there were 10 missed calls from Sherlock. Before she could decide what to do she was called in to the office and she nervously shoved her phone in her pocket and went in to the therapists office.

* * *

Sherlock was pacing in his room. His phone beeped and he jumped quickly checking it. To his dismay it was Irene again.

 _Better move on from her._

Sherlock rolled his eyes and deleted her text before tossing his phone onto the bed. He thought about what Watson said. Just visit her. What is the worst that could happen?

* * *

"Are you nervous?" The therapist asked as Céline sat down across from her.

"No." Céline lied, shifting in her chair. Her thoughts were racing as the therapist began writing things down.

"Céline, there is nothing to worry about. Please, tell me why you decided to come in." The therapist began. Céline suddenly felt faint. A headache began to spread as she explained her anxiety attacks and her two traumatic experiences that kept coming back. First, being her father. Second, being her kidnapping. "So you felt helpless?" The therapist asked. Céline felt her heart beating fast.

"Helpless? Yes." Céline nodded in agreement.

"Tell me, Céline, what triggers these episodes?" The therapist asked. Céline bit her lip, thinking.

"Well. I...I have a lot of intrusive thoughts. It's like my mind drifts back to what was said to me during the events. And I can't stop thinking about the event after that. Gunshots trigger me. I've begun to have nightmares and insomnia..." Céline explained. Her hands began to shake. The therapist took a note of it.

"How does your body react?" The therapist asked. Céline rubbed her eyes.

"I uh, I get very distressed. My vision clouds up and I get dizzy." Céline shivered as she spoke and hugged herself. "It's like I have no control of my mind. They play out over and over again in my head." When Céline stopped speaking the therapist turned to her computer and began looking some things up.

"Céline, I am going to move forward with a diagnosis. This sounds like textbook post-traumatic stress disorder. I am going to give you a prescription and I would like to have a meeting with you once a week to check up." The therapist explained. When the rest of the meeting was finished Céline nervously went to get the medication. She felt her ears ringing when she picked it up. When she went to leave she ran into a woman and dropped her prescription onto the ground. The woman went to pick it up off the floor and Céline thanked her.

"I'm sorry," Céline spoke, turning red.

"That's okay, Céline. This worked perfectly. I would love to talk." It was Irene. Céline watched as Irene read her prescription.

"I'm sorry. Have we met?" Céline asked. Irene chuckled, reading the notes on the prescription.

"PTSD?" Irene asked in a judgmental tone. "It must be bad." Céline didn't know what to say. Irene handed her the prescription back. Céline took it and shoved it into her pocket.

"Who are you?" Céline asked, feeling unsettled. Irene smiled.

"My name is Irene." Irene slyly answered. Céline felt her stomach churn. Irene felt a surge of power at her reaction.

"Oh..." Céline trailed off. Her face felt hot and her hands got sweaty. Irene took a step closer to her and looked her up and down. Céline also studied her. Irene was put together, beautiful, and calm.

"You're a mess," Irene observed. Noticing the sweat on her brow and the sickly paleness of her skin. Céline took a step back from her before pushing past her to walk away. Irene grabbed her arm to stop her. "Wait." She ordered. Céline ripped her arm away and turned to her.

"What do you want?" Céline asked. Irene smirked.

"I want him," Irene spoke. Before Céline could reply she heard a voice.

"Good to see you Irene. I usually just hear about you in the press." It was Mycroft. He laid a protective hand on Céline's shoulder. Irene frowned and observed them.

"Mycroft." Irene scoffed. Mycroft turned his attention to Céline.

"I can drive you home." He spoke before turning to leave with her. Irene watched them and frowned.

"Céline if you've moved on to Mycroft why don't you let me have him?" Irene coldly asked. Céline thickly swallowed before deciding to ignore her and storm out. Mycroft sent Irene a look and followed Céline out. The drive over was mostly quiet. Mycroft watched Céline. He was worried about her.

"What did they give you for the PTSD?" Mycroft asked. Céline was holding back tears and just passed him the bottle of pills. Mycroft read it. "I think it will help." He observed before passing the bottle back. Céline nodded but didn't say anything. "Céline..."

"I'm sorry. I've just been getting worse. This doesn't all have to do with Sherlock." She finally spoke up. "I just can't stop thinking about them. My father and Moriarty. I feel like I'm driving myself insane." Céline explained. Mycroft watched her and listened. They parked at her house. He took her hands into his.

* * *

Sherlock was sitting in her flat, waiting for her to return. He was looking out the window when he saw Mycroft's car pull up. The car sat there idle for a long time with no one and Sherlock frowned.

* * *

"Just rest. Take the medication and rest. My brother will come around." Mycroft reassured her. Céline nodded. She had begun to cry. Mycroft frowned when he saw her tears. "Céline..." he moved to sit beside her and wrapped an arm around her. He had never been in this sitation before and didn't quite know how to help. Céline began to cry harder and leaned into him.

"I'm sorry." She softly spoke when her crying calmed down. Mycroft shook his head.

"Don't be." He helped her out of the car and to her flat. "Will you be alright?" He asked. Céline rubbed her eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, I'll be alright." She softly spoke. Mycroft nodded and wiped a tear from her eye. Céline thanked him for driving her home before heading inside. When she got to her door it was unlocked and she took a deep breath before going inside. She didn't say anything to Sherlock as she took her coat and shoes off. Sherlock watched her as she went to the kitchen. Her hands were shaking. Deep bags stood out under her eyes from the lack of sleep. Céline read the instructions on the bottle of pills after grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. She knew she was supposed to eat when taking the pill but she wanted to take it as soon as possible. The bottle of pills was easy to open and she popped a single bright blue pill out and took it. After swallowing the pill Céline drank the entire bottle of water she took from the fridge. She felt Sherlock's eyes but was trying to act like he wasn't there. Her eyes shut tight as she felt the pill go down her throat.

"What was that?" Sherlock asked, worried. He went over and picked up the bottle reading it. Céline left him standing there. Her plan was to retreat to her room. But, he followed her and stepped in front of her before she could get to the hallway. "Céline please." He was feeling frantic. When he showed up he was hoping they would talk and hadn't counted on her silence. She tried to push past him. Tears had begun to spill down her cheeks again. The day had been too much for her. It had been horrible and all she wanted was to go lay in bed to get herself back together. Sherlock grabbed her arms and steadied her.

"I don't know how to deal with this." Céline suddenly cried, covering her face with her hand. Sherlock kept a gentle but firm hold onto her. Panic crossed his face, he was suddenly afraid that he would lose her.

"Céline I didn't do anything with her. You're the only one..." Sherlock spoke. Céline shook her head. She was starting to feel lightheaded.

"No!" She cut him off. "Sherlock this isn't just about you!" Céline stumbled back as she shouted. This was all too much. Her father's murder attempt had caught up with her. Moriarty had just added to the feelings of fear and helplessness. As Céline's thoughts began to race about the two men her vision became dizzy. Sherlock noticed but before he could say anything or ask if she was okay Céline collapsed to the floor. She began hyperventilating and she hugged herself. "I'm a mess," Céline whispered to herself, thinking about Irene. Sherlock stayed beside her but when he tried to move her she refused to move from the fetal position her body had curled into.

"Céline," Sherlock spoke. Céline was shaking. She was gone from the moment with Sherlock and she was back in the basement. The old basement. The one where Moriarty tied her up and beat her. The one where her father dragged her mother's body. Her mind was reliving her stress and her helplessness. She began speaking to herself, repeating things that were said as she flashbacked to the moments of terror.

"Please spare Céline, she's only a child," Céline whispered to herself. "You don't deserve him. I hate you." Sherlock just watched her. He knew he just had to let her go through it. But it pained him to watch. When she finally stopped speaking and just laid shaking and crying Sherlock picked her up. It was finally safe to move her. "Sherlock, what is happening to me?" Céline cried as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Sherlock carried her into the room and laid her down on the bed.

"We'll get through it." Sherlock softly spoke. She sat up as he went to close the blinds.

"Sherlock?" Céline asked. "Did you really..." She couldn't finish the question. The words wouldn't come out. Céline was afraid that if she asked Sherlock about Irene point blank it would somehow be true. Sherlock sat beside her and took her face into both of his hands.

"I didn't. Céline, I would never even think of leaving you for anyone or doing anything with anyone...I...I love you.." Sherlock spoke. He struggled to say it but he meant it with all of his soul. Céline was dumbfounded when she heard him say it but the second it left his lips she embraced him as tight as she could.


	29. A Scandal In Belgravia 8

Months went by and Céline was feeling a lot better about everything. Her PTSD had been under control with her new prescription and weekly therapist visit and her and Sherlock had gotten very close. Céline had moved into 221b Baker Street in late November. The move had helped her triggers because she no longer had to see little signs that reminded her of the kidnapping. Now it was Christmas Eve. It had been a busy day for Céline. She had to wrap up some things at Scotland Yard in the morning and then had to drop by the store to get a gift for Mrs. Hudson and Watson. The stores were full of people scrambling for last minute gifts. Céline quickly purchased a new tea set for Mrs. Hudson and a tablet for Watson so he could work on the blog on the go. In the days before Christmas, Sherlock and Céline decided to not get each other anything for the holiday. But Céline had broken the decision to get him some odds and ends for his violin. When she got home to 221b Baker Street she quickly rushed up the stairs and hid the presents in her and Sherlock's bedroom before sneaking into the front room to borrow some wrapping paper from Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock and Watson were both out. They had gone to pick up a jumper for Watson to wear at the little Christmas get together they were having that evening. Mrs. Hudson was cooking. When Céline was finished with the wrapping she put the presents under the tree and got ready.

* * *

That evening everyone was sitting around in the flat talking. Snow had begun to fall. Sherlock was playing Christmas jingles for the group. Watson, Sherlock, Céline, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Watson's new girlfriend were all sitting around the living room. Céline got a text as he played. It was from Lestrade.

 _Merry Christmas._

She sadly replied, hoping that he was having a good time with his family. The previous week Watson had invited him to come over for the party but Lestrade had declined. Sherlock finished playing and everyone clapped. He set his violin down and sat beside Céline.

"Lovely! Sherlock, that was lovely!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, hiccuping. "I wish you could have worn the antlers!" Céline giggled at this. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock responded. Molly was nervous. Her eyes wandered to Sherlock and Céline as they shared a look. Céline offered him a sip of her cup of tea and he drank some. Molly couldn't help but notice that Sherlock and Céline were matching. Sherlock was wearing a red silk tie that matched Céline's red silk turtleneck dress. Watson walked over to Mrs. Hudson and took away her wine glass, passing her a cup of tea.

"Mrs. H…" Watson laughed as she took the cup. Watson's girlfriend passed over a tray of mince pies to Sherlock and Céline.

"No thank you, Sarah," Sherlock spoke, calling her the name of Watson's previous girlfriend. Céline turned bright red and smacked Sherlock's knee. The woman tensed up and sat back in her chair angrily.

"Uh…He's not good with names." Watson spoke, rushing over to comfort her. Sherlock frowned.

"No, no wait. I know this." Sherlock spoke. Céline tugged on his sleeve in protest. But Sherlock was determined to get the name right, "No, Sarah was the doctor, and then there was the one with the spots, and then the one with the nose; and then ... who was after the boring teacher?"

"Nobody." The woman snapped. She was the teacher. Céline cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Jeanette!" Sherlock exclaimed. He looked at Céline with a look of triumph. "Ah, the process of elimination." Watson glared at Sherlock and ushered Jeanette away to sit by the fireplace. Sherlock's phone beeped and he took it out. It was a text from Irene that said,

 _Mantelpiece_

Sherlock and Céline exchanged a glance. They both looked over to the mantelpiece, there was a small red box sitting on it. Sherlock stuck his phone in his pocket.

"Let's ignore it," Sherlock spoke. Céline rubbed his knee before getting up.

"No, it's alright," Céline spoke before walking over to grab the package. It was wrapped in red paper with a black string. She returned to the couch and passed it to him. "You should open it." Sherlock sigh and nodded. He unwrapped the paper to reveal a small silk box. Inside the box was a cell phone. Irene's cell phone. Sherlock frowned. He stood up and took Céline's hand.

"Céline and I are going to step out," Sherlock spoke before heading for the door, pulling Céline along with him. She grabbed her jacket as they went downstairs and outside.

"Sherlock, what is it?" Céline asked as Sherlock called Mycroft.

"Irene Adler said this phone was her life. I have a feeling that her giving it up is a sign." Sherlock explained. Céline frowned.

"Does that mean that she's…" Céline asked, worried. Sherlock shrugged.

"Probably," Sherlock replied. Mycroft answered. He had been sitting in an armchair in his office. Sherlock put it on speaker so Céline could hear.

"Oh dear Lord. We're not going to have Christmas phone calls now, are we? Haven't they passed a new law?" Mycroft exclaimed.

"I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight," Sherlock spoke. Mycroft scoffed. Suddenly Céline's phone rang. It was Lestrade. She exchanged a glance with Sherlock before answering.

"Hello?" Céline asked into the phone, stepping away from Sherlock.

"I'm so sorry to call this late. There's been a body found. You're much closer than I am to Scotland Yard, can you drop by the scene?" Lestrade asked.

"Of course I can," Céline replied before Lestrade thanked her and hung up. Sherlock had gotten off the phone with Mycroft. "Sherlock…I think she just turned up."

* * *

It was a couple of hours later and Céline was standing around Irene's body with Sherlock and Mycroft at the hospital. A sheet was over her body. Molly had joined them. Céline felt sick.

"Thank you for coming in Molly," Céline spoke, breaking the silence. Molly nodded.

"That's okay. Everyone else was busy with...Christmas." Molly shrugged. Céline shifted uncomfortably. Sherlock had not gone to the crime scene with her, he had joined her here to identify the body. Céline touched his arm.

"Sherlock…shes a bit…beaten up, her face…" Céline began. "It'll be difficult…" Sherlock nodded.

"That's alright." He replied. Céline nodded and pulled the sheet off of Irene. Sherlock studied it. "It's her." Céline nodded and covered the body back up. Molly watched Sherlock and Céline.

"Thank you, Molly," Céline spoke. Sherlock wandered outside to wait for Céline to finish up the crime scene paperwork to drop off at Scotland Yard. Mycroft joined him. Molly began to put the body away. As they stood there Mycroft watched his brother. Sherlock was watching a family of three who were grieving a family member who had passed away in the lobby of the hospital. All three were sobbing and holding each other. Mycroft followed his gaze.

"Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?" Sherlock spoke. Mycroft watched him.

"All lives end. All hearts are broken _..._ I must say I didn't expect the two of you to last this long." Mycroft began. Sherlock didn't look at him or say anything. "I really like her, I do. But, perhaps it was a mistake of mine to advocate it so much..."

"You didn't make the decision for me. I made the decision the moment I saw her." Sherlock admitted. Mycroft nodded.

"It's getting serious, isn't it? That row you two had about Irene before she moved in with you. My sources say that you two spend a lot of time together in your bedroom, with the curtains drawn and the lights out..." Mycroft observed. "Irene even couldn't stop talking about how much she hated Céline. She mentioned it quite a bit to us in the last few months."

"I could care less what anyone thinks of Céline, I think she's..." Sherlock began but stopped himself. He had already given away too much of how deep his feelings for her had become. Mycroft observed him. His brother was in love. There was no doubt in Mycroft's mind.

"You think she's...what?" Mycroft pressed. Sherlock looked at him, he didn't answer. "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock, _"_ Mycroft spoke. Céline joined the two men outside. Sherlock and Mycroft were starting at each other and Sherlock went to Céline, taking her hand.

"Merry Christmas, Mycroft," Sherlock spoke. Mycroft looked from Sherlock to Céline and smiled.

"And a happy New Year," Mycroft replied

* * *

Their bedroom was dark except for the moonlight that shined through the small space between the window and the curtain. The floor was littered with their Christmas Eve clothes. They had just finished making love. The bed was messy and their heavy breathing filled the room. Sherlock laid in Céline's arms, his face was buried in her neck. Céline's chin was resting on top of his head as she held him. As their bodies cooled down he softly kissed her neck. He didn't care what Mycroft had to say. She was his heart.


	30. A Scandal In Belgravia 9

Sorry, it's been so long puddin's but I'm back!

* * *

The next morning Céline got up bright and early. Sherlock was gone from bed. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. After a few moments Sherlock came in from the front room. He had been wrapping her gift.

"Merry Christmas." Céline smiled as he sat beside her and kissed her cheek.

"Merry Christmas." He replied, sheepishly passing her the gift. "I know we said we wouldn't but…I got you this." Sherlock blushed. Céline smiled and took the box.

"Thank you." She beamed as she unwrapped it. It was a string of pearls. Sherlock helped her put it on.

"Do you like them?" He asked.

"I love them." She beamed, giving him a kiss.

* * *

Soon, it was New Years. Sherlock and Céline had spent most of the time between Christmas and New Years in Sherlock's room talking with and holding each other. Irene's phone sat forgotten on the dresser. Watson had been picked up by a limo and he assumed it was Mycroft. A woman was sitting across from him.

"Couldn't we just go to a café? Sherlock doesn't follow me everywhere." Watson frowned. The car pulled to a stop and the woman lead him into a house.

"Through there." She had ignored his question. Watson frowned and turned his gaze from her to the path in front of him. He signed and walked down the hall to a large room.

 _"_ Hello, Doctor Watson." A woman spoke up once Watson entered, it was Irene. Watson jumped and frowned.

"You're alive?" He observed. Irene nodded and watched him.

"If you told him would he come after me?" Irene asked, her voice dripping with jealousy. "I noticed that he and Céline have been spending their time…in Sherlock's bedroom." Watson watched her.

"Mycroft will come for you." He replied. She stood up and walked toward him.

"Mmm, I believe you. But I don't want Mycroft…I…" Irene began.

"You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you." Watson cut her off. He was frustrated. Irene giggled.

"DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep," Irene responded. Watson crossed his arms.

"And I bet you know the record-keeper…" Watson observed. Irene nodded.

"I know what he likes, and I needed to disappear," Irene responded. Watson rolled his eyes. "Look, I made a mistake. I sent something to Sherlock for safe-keeping and now I need it back, so I need your help." Watson shook his head.

"No." Watson snapped. Irene saw the look on his face and scoffed, taking out her phone.

"Fine, then what do I say?" Irene spoke. Watson was turning red with anger.

"What do you normally say? You've texted him a lot." Watson replied.

"Just the usual stuff," Irene spoke. "Good morning, I like your funny hat, I'm sad tonight. Let's have dinner, you looked sexy on 'Crimewatch, Let's have dinner, I'm not hungry, let's have dinner". Irene spoke, reading through her texts messages. "I suppose flirting is useless with Céline in the way."

"Céline is not in the way." Watson protested. Irene perked an eyebrow.

"She's nothing special." Irene snapped back as she typed a message. Watson clenched his jaw. "There." She showed Watson the text she sent on her burn phone.

 _I'm not dead. Let's have dinner._

* * *

Sherlock's phone was sitting on the side table. He was above Céline and they were making love. Their hands were entwined on either side of Céline's head. Their faces were flushed and their moans filled the room. Sherlock's phone rang as Irene's text message came in but he didn't even realize it. When they had finished they left to get dinner. Before they left Sherlock grabbed Irene's phone from the dresser and put it in his pocket. When they returned it was dark and Sherlock stopped Céline from entering the flat.

"What is it?" Céline asked, surprised. Sherlock raised his finger to his mouth and pulled Irene's phone out of his pocket. Passing it to Céline. Céline took it and watched him.

"Stay here. Wait for me to call you. If any men come out, act like you're just walking down the street." He ordered before rushing in. Céline frowned but waited for him. As Sherlock rushed in he glanced around and saw that someone had broken in and grabbed Mrs. Hudson while she was cleaning when he and Céline had left. He noticed that they had pulled her up the stairs and he felt his blood began to boil with anger. His steps were slow and quiet. When he got to the door on top of the stairs he slowly opened the door. Hearing Mrs. Hudson sniffling and crying.

"Oh, Sherlock!" She shouted as he entered. Sherlock watched the three men in the room, CIA, the same men who had raided Irene's house when Sherlock first met her.

"Don't snivel, Mrs. Hudson. It'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet." Sherlock matter of factly spoke.

"What a tender world that would be." The CIA agent observed. "I believe you have something that we want, Mr Holmes."

"Then why don't you ask for it?" Sherlock snapped. The man walked over to Mrs. Hudson and knelt beside her.

"I've been asking this one. She doesn't seem to know anything." The CIA agent spoke. Sherlock noticed a cut on her cheek and it made him even angrier. He began to pinpoint attack points on each man. "But you know what I'm asking for, don't you, Mr Holmes?" The CIA agent continued.

"I believe I do," Sherlock spoke. "First, get rid of your boys. I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room." After a moment of hesitation, the CIA agent sent his two men out.

 _"_ You two, go to the car." He snapped. Sherlock quickly cut in.

"Then get into the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me. You know who I am. It doesn't work." Sherlock snapped. The two men left. Céline had been pacing the street, Irene's phone was in her pocket and she jumped in surprise as the two men left. They passed her and got into a car before driving off. A few moments after they drove off. Céline heard Sherlock shout for her and she rushed inside. There was a man laying on the coffee table and Mrs. Hudson was crying. Céline frowned and rushed to her.

"What is happening?" Céline asked.

"Mrs. Hudson's been attacked by an American," Sherlock explained. "Can I have Irene's phone?" Céline nodded and passed it to him. "Can you call Lestrade?" Sherlock asked. Céline crossed her arms.

"What am I going to tell him?" Céline asked.

"It was a break in?" Sherlock suggested before turning to the CIA agent. Céline sigh and nodded before stepping out to call Lestrade. Watson returned as she stepped out to call.

About an hour later Sherlock and Lestrade were both standing with Céline just outside 221b Baker Street. Watson was inside tending to Mrs. Hudson's wounds.

"And exactly how many times _did_ he fall out the window?"

"It's all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector. I lost count." Sherlock shrugged. Lestrade sign and nodded.

"Céline, can you fill out the paperwork tomorrow?" Lestrade asked. Céline nodded and Lestrade hailed a taxi to leave. Céline and Sherlock went back inside. Watson and Mrs. Hudson were sitting in the kitchen.

 _"_ Where is it now?" Watson asked when Sherlock and Céline came in. Sherlock shrugged.

"Where no one will look," Sherlock replied, picking up his violin. Céline sat on the couch and watched as Sherlock tuned the violin.

"Whatever's on that phone is more than just pictures," Watson observed. Sherlock nodded. "So, she's alive then. How are we feeling about that?" Sherlock didn't reply. Céline's face curled up in confusion.

"Irene?" Céline asked. Sherlock turned to look at her.

"She texted me while we…" Sherlock trailed off when Watson cleared his throat nervously. Big Ben tolled midnight before Sherlock could finish speaking. "Happy New Year, Céline," Sherlock spoke, walking over and kissing her forehead before beginning to play. Watson was surprised, it was the most affection he had ever seen Sherlock show. Watson thought about what Irene said, about Céline being in the way.


	31. A Scandal In Belgravia 10

A couple of months had gone by since New Years. But on this particular day Irene had rushed to 221b Baker Street. She wanted her phone back, and she wanted Sherlock to decode an email for her. Sherlock and Watson had found Irene in their flat earlier that day and were questioning her. When Céline got home from work she heard voices upstairs. She recognized Irene's voice from the day she had interacted with her while picking up her PTSD medication. Céline straightened up, putting on a brave face before she went upstairs and entered the apartment.

"Where's my camera phone?" Irene asked before she entered. When Céline came into the room all three turned to her. Irene frowned. "It's you." She glared. Sherlock walked over to Céline and took her arm protectively to lead her over to where he stood in the corner. Céline didnt know what to say and just let Sherlock lead her. She felt Irene's eyes on her the entire time.

"Your phone's not here. We're not stupid." Watson snapped. Irene quickly turned her attention to Watson. Sherlock and Céline exchanged a glance, she knew he had a fake phone in his pocket. But Céline had been keeping the actual phone in her coat pocket.

"Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you." Irene snapped back. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Céline sat down across the table from Irene.

"If they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago," Sherlock responded.

"I need it." Irene pressed. Her eyes would flicker over to Céline every once in awhile. Sherlock decided to drop the ruse, he wanted to get Irene out of here as soon as possible but was also deeply curious about the phone.

"Well, what do you keep on it?" Céline suddenly asked. Irene frowned and shot her a look of death and scoffed as if it was a stupid question.

"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful," Irene responded, her voice spitting poison. It upset Sherlock to see Irene treat Céline so rudely.

"What, for blackmail?" Watson asked.

"For protection. I make my way in the world, I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be." Irene corrected, staring at Céline the entire time. The women were locked onto eachother. Irene wanted Céline to be broken down again.

"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock asked, setting his hand on the back of Céline's chair.

"I told you, I misbehave." Irene shrugged, breaking off her gaze with Céline.

"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?" Sherlock retorted. Irene nodded.

"Yes, but I don't understand it," Irene explained.

"I assumed. Show me." Sherlock took out the fake phone. Irene went to grab it but Sherlock quickly pulled away. "The passcode." Irene frowned and snatched it from him, typing in the code.

"It's not working." She observed. Sherlock quickly took the fake phone back from her.

"No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one oh five eight," Sherlock spoke. Irene frowned, she looked over at Céline in surprise when she pulled out Irene's real phone from her trench coat pocket. Passing it to Sherlock.

"So, you were holding onto something of mine?" Irene snapped. Céline glared at her and didnt reply. "Maybe I should hold onto something of yours…" Irene purred, looking at Sherlock. Before Céline could say anything Sherlock attempted the passcode and the screen beeped.

WRONG PASSCODE. 1 ATTEMPT REMAINING

"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand." Irene matter of factly spoke. "There was a man, a MOD official. I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it. He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen, can you read it?" Irene asked, pulling out her burn phone passing it to Sherlock. He looked at it for a moment.

"Yes." Sherlock curtly replied.

"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out." Irene replied. "What can you do, Mr. Holmes?" Irene asked. Sherlock looked up at her and glared. Irene winked at him. "Go on. Impress a girl." Irene cooed. Céline felt her face get hot with frustration. But Sherlock knelt beside her.

"Céline I won't look at the code if you don't want me too." He spoke, waiting for her permission. This frustrated Irene. Céline thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"Its fine Sherlock. Go ahead." Céline softly spoke. Sherlock nodded and looked at the burn phone again.

"There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently, it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds….Oh, come on. It's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look, there's no letter 'I' because it can be mistaken for a '1'; no letters past 'K' – the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter 'K' or rows past fifty-five, which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number, zero, zero seven, that eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport." Sherlock responded before passing the burn phone back to Irene. Irene's eyes were glazed over with lust and she stood.

"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice," Irene spoke. Céline felt her face burning. Now she knew how Sherlock felt about Lestrade.

"Céline is the only person who will ever hear me beg for mercy," Sherlock responded without skipping a beat. Irene frowned and sent Céline a glare. Céline flushed a deeper shade of red. Watson cleared his throat awkwardly.

"John, please can you check those flight schedules; see if I'm right?"

"Uh-huh. I'm on it, yeah." Watson grumbled as he typed onto his laptop. Céline, Sherlock, and Irene sat in silence. Sherlock reached over and took Céline's hand. He wanted to make it clear to Irene where his loyalty was.

"Uh, yeah, you're right. Uh, flight double oh seven…." Céline suddenly felt sick and she stood and excused herself to step outside to get some air. When she returned Irene was gone and the phone was gone too. Céline's phone rang and she checked it. It was a text from Mycroft.

 _When my men get there bring Sherlock._

She frowned but the door rang before she could ask anything.

"Sherlock…" Céline began. "Mycroft wants you to come over."

"Is that what our visitor is here for?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

* * *

About an hour later Mycroft, Céline and Sherlock sat in Mycroft's residence. Mycroft was angry with Sherlock. Sherlock had deciphered the plans to deter a terrorist cell with a plane full of dead bodies. Céline was sitting at the table listening to the men argue. She had never seen Mycroft so angry.

"It doesn't fly. It will never fly. This entire project is canceled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb. We can't fool them now. We've lost everything. One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished." Mycroft explained, becoming incredibly flustered.

"Your MOD man." Sherlock accused.

"That's all it takes, one naïve man desperate to show off, and a woman clever enough to make him feel special." Mycroft snapped, his face red. Céline cut in.

"Mycroft, it's my fault. I could have stopped him from…" She began.

"Céline its not your fault." Mycroft quickly cut her off. "My brother made the final choice, not you."

"You should screen your defense people more carefully," Sherlock replied, not understanding.

"I'm not talking about the MOD man, Sherlock! I'm talking about you," Mycroft shouted. It made Céline jump. Sherlock exchanged a glance with her. "The damsel in distress. In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook, the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption; then give him a puzzle and watch him dance. It doesnt matter that he's committed, it doesnt mater that the woman he cares about is in the room." Mycroft continued, furious. Sherlock felt his face grow hot. Céline felt nervous. She was surprised that Mycroft was upset with Sherlock about how he treated Irene.

"Don't be absurd." Sherlock snapped. Mycroft laughed.

"Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or were you really eager to impress?" Mycroft snapped, getting closer to Sherlock. Irene came in triumphant.

"I think it was less than five seconds." Irene snapped.

"I drove you into her path," Mycroft spoke, he turned toward Céline. "I'm sorry," Mycroft spoke to Céline. Irene cut in. She wanted to be at the center of the attention in the room and wanted to take it from Céline.

"Mr. Holmes, I think we need to talk," Irene spoke. Sherlock frowned.

"So do I. There are a number of aspects I'm still not quite clear on," Sherlock spoke. Irene pushed past him.

"Not you, Junior. You're done now." Irene replied. She took a seat across from Céline and Mycroft sat beside Céline protectively. Irene held up her phone.

"There's more, loads more. On this phone, I've got secrets, pictures, and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother." Irene threatened. Céline felt sick. She felt Sherlock's eyes but didn't look at him, she couldn't. "We have people who can get into this."

"I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it for six months." Irene scoffed. "Sherlock, dear, tell him what you found when you X-rayed my camera phone."

"There are four additional units wired inside the casing, I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive," Sherlock spoke. Mycroft frowned and rubbed his eyes.

"Explosive," Irene smirked. "It's more me."

"You have a passcode to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you." Mycroft offered.

"Sherlock?" Irene asked. Céline hated how she spoke to him and how he responded.

"There will be two passcodes: one to open the phone, one to burn the drive. Even under duress, you can't know which one she's given you and there will be no point in a second attempt." Sherlock replied. Irene looked at Céline.

"He's good, isn't he? I should have him on a leash, in fact, I might." Irene spoke. Céline glared. Irene broke their gaze to pass Mycroft a list from her purse. "A list of my requests; and some ideas about my protection once they're granted," Irene spoke. Mycroft and Céline exchanged a glance before he looked.

"You've been very ... thorough..." Mycroft spoke, clearly holding back anger. Irene shrugged.

"I can't take all the credit. Had a bit of help..." Irene began, looking over to Sherlock. "Jim Moriarty sends his love," Irene spoke. Céline's blood ran cold and she turned pale at the mention of his name. Sherlock felt his face grow hot with anger.

"Very very close, but no." Sherlock stood. Walking over to the table. "You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much." Sherlock observed. "Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine, craving the distraction of the game, I sympathize entirely, but sentiment? Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side." Céline felt a little hurt by his words.

"Oh dear God. Look at the poor man. You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?" Irene snapped, standing to face him. Mycroft's gaze turned to Céline. Her gaze was fixed on the table and her face was red with embarrassment.

"I imagine John Watson thinks love's a mystery to me but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very destructive. You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you've worked for but you just couldn't resist it, could you?" Sherlock asked. Irene began to panic. "I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage, thank you for the final proof." Sherlock snapped at Irene before putting in the passcode. Céline felt tears threaten to spill from her eyes. She stood up and left the room retreating to the small patio. Mycroft watched her go before turning his gaze to Sherlock and Irene.

"Everything I said: it's not real. I was just playing the game." Irene begged. Sherlock smirked.

"I know. This is just losing." He snapped, putting in the code.

 _I am Sher Locked_

"There you are, brother. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight." Sherlock passed Mycroft the now unlocked phone. Mycroft took it.

"I'm certain they will," Mycroft replied. Before Irene could say anything to Sherlock he left out the patio door to find Céline.


	32. The Hounds of Baskerville 1

Céline was sitting in the far corner of the patio with her head in her hands. Sherlock walked up beside her and knelt by her side.

"Love is a dangerous disadvantage…" Céline spoke, not looking at him.

"Theatrics." Sherlock responded. "I don't think our love is a disadvantage." Sherlock watched her. He noticed that his words didnt make her feel better. "Céline I mean it…"

"Am I not enough for you? Are you losing interest in me? Am I…just another thing you're getting bored with?" Céline asked. Sherlock frowned and moved to kneel in front of her.

"Céline of course not." He spoke. She wouldn't look at him and Sherlock gently grabbed her face. "Céline, please." Céline stood up and left the room. She passed Mycroft on her way out and hailed a taxi back to 221b Baker Street. Mycroft walked out to see Sherlock.

"You are quite charming." Mycroft sarcastically spoke.

"Shut up." Sherlock snapped glaring at his brother. Mycroft sigh and walked over to where Sherlock stood.

"I just don't know how much you expect her to put up with," Mycroft replied. Sherlock was ignoring him. He began to worry.

"I've never loved someone before." Sherlock finally spoke after a long silence. "She has to know that." Mycroft rolled his eyes and looked at the night sky. A weird feeling was building up in Mycroft's chest. He didn't know why he felt so protective of Céline and he didn't know if he was afraid to admit why or if he didn't know why.

"Maybe show her once in a while." Mycroft coldly spoke before heading back inside.

* * *

When Sherlock returned to 221b Baker Street, Céline was laying in bed. She had been crying and covered her face with the blanket when she heard Sherlock come into the bedroom. Sherlock rubbed his neck nervously, watching her form in the darkness.

"Céline. I'm sorry." Sherlock softly spoke. He felt his face begin to grow hot. "I just. I don't understand things. I don't know how to be in love." Céline sat up as she spoke and turned to look at him.

"You dont have to be so cruel." She softly spoke. Sherlock sat in front of her and took her face into his hands.

"I'm sorry, I'll try harder." Sherlock begged, wiping away her tears. Céline nodded and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

* * *

Time passed and soon it was summer. Céline was sitting at home drinking a cup of tea going through the mail. It was her day off. Sherlock and Watson had driven out to Dewer's Hollow on a case, The Hound of Baskervile. Céline had decided to stay back. Lestrade was on vacation so she was stepping up to help with his duties at the Scotland Yard. As she got to the bottom of the pile of letters she saw it. A handwritten envelope. Her name was in big block letters on the front and it was stamped with a Sherrinford sticker. Her heart fell and she imediently called her therapist asking to come in. She got an afternoon appointment. A few hours later she was sitting in her therapists office. Her hands were shaking.

"I got it this morning." She passed the letter to her therapist.

"Do you want to open it?" The therapist asked, "You dont have to." Céline felt her breath catch in her throat.

"I dont know if I want to open it." Céline responded. "I know who sent it. But I dont know why."

"Who sent it?" The therapist asked curiously. Céline had been vague about the letter on the phone and she wasn't sure why she was hesitant.

"It's my father. I'm sure of it. He's been in Sherrinford since…since…" Céline began before trailing off.

"Since your mother was…" The therapist also trailed off before looking down at the letter. "You know Céline, you dont have to open it. We can dispose of it, or I can hold onto it…"

"But why would he reach out to me?" Céline asked, staring at the letter in her therapist's hands. After a long moment of silence, she felt a sudden surge of courage. "I want to open it."


	33. The Hounds of Baskerville 2

Puddin's! I'm back! School is all over and now i'm free to write all the time! New chapters are coming everyday the rest of the week! The plot really thickens in this chapter and I hope you all love it! Please follow and review xoxo

* * *

The ride to Sherrinford was long and quiet. Céline spent the ride looking out the window lost in thought. She hadn't told Sherlock or Mycroft, she knew they would be against it. But she had made up her mind and was going to hear what her father had to say. What she didn't know was that she was walking into a trap of sorts. Knowledge of Sherlock and Céline's relationship had made it to Eurus Holmes. The younger sister of Sherlock and Mycroft. When Eurus found out the same feelings went through her as did when she killed Sherlock's best friend when they were children. She needed to size this woman up. To see who her brother cared about so she could crush his feelings. Eurus discovered Céline's existence from Moriarty when the two met. After doing some digging she found that Céline's father had been locked up in Sherrinford years earlier when he killed her mother. And she had drafted the note that Céline received.

* * *

Mycroft was pacing around. He was still confused about the strange protectiveness that popped up surrounding Céline. It worried him. Mycroft called in his assistant.

"What's the status on Céline today?" He asked. It was a usual question for his assistant. Mycroft kept a close eye on Sherlock, John, Céline, and Miss. Hudson. The assistant took out her phone and looked.

"She hailed a taxi about a half hour ago…for…Sherrinford." The assistant spoke. Mycroft felt his blood run cold.

"What? Where? I don't believe I heard correctly?" Mycroft spoke.

"Sherrinford. She took a taxi to Sherrinford about, half an hour ago." The assistant repeated. Mycroft took a deep breath.

"Could you get my car ready? I think I will be taking a trip too." Mycroft asked, pulling his phone out and dialing Céline's number. Céline got out of the taxi and didnt notice that her phone was ringing. Mycroft waited for her on the phone as he followed his assistant to the car, but to his dismay she didnt answer. He tried one more time as he got into the car and asked to be taken to Sherrinford. This time when the phone went to voicemail he left a calm but slightly frazzled message.

"Céline, I need to you call me back when you get this. I heard that you are on the way to Sherinnford. I just need to know what you are doing there, it could get very dangerous. Please…call me back." Mycroft hung up and pressed his phone to his lips in thought. He was worried. It was the first time he had felt worried for another person in as long as he could remember. It wasn't familial. It was different than the worry he felt for Sherlock. He knew somewhere deep down what had begun to develop but he put it to the back of his mind, he wouldn't allow himself to acknowledge it.

* * *

When Céline entered Sherrinford everything seemed normal. A nurse greeted her at the door and brought her into a small entrance where the check in desk was.

"Who are you here to see?" The nurse asked before going to a large book of appointments.

"uh…Hugh Brown." Céline spoke, nervous. The nurse looked through the appointments.

"Sorry, Hugh has no appointments today." The nurse spoke, Céline felt her stomach churn. She quickly retrieved the letter from her note.

"But, I could have sworn he wrote that…" Céline began, looking through the letter. As she did the nurse noticed another name.

"I'm sorry Miss, what is your name?" The nurse asked, placing her finger in the appointment book to mark a page. Céline watched this and nervously shoved the letter back into her pocket.

"Céline…Céline Brown., Céline replied.

"This is strange but, I do have you here for an appointment with another patient." The nurse observed.

"Oh?" Céline asked, surprised and confused.

* * *

M ycroft checked his watch, he had been on the road for just under half an hour. He would be to Sherrinford in the next ten minutes. He fidgeted for a moment before taking out his phone to see if Céline had called him back. There were no messages or missed calls.

* * *

Céline had let the nurse lead her back to the other patient she had been scheduled for. She was curious and found it odd that the nurse had been insistent on her visiting this patient. What Céline didnt know was that the nurse was working with Eurus to make sure she and Céline would meet.

"I'm sorry, what is the patient's name?" Céline asked as she was led down the long hallway. The nurse turned to look at her.

"Her name is Eurus….Eurus Holmes." She replied. Céline got a strange feeling in her gut.

"I'm sorry, Holmes? As in Sherlock Holmes?" Céline asked. The nurse nodded.

"Yes, the records show that they are siblings." The nurse curtly responded. Céline nodded. Her thoughts were racing. Why hadn't Sherlock or Mycroft mentioned her? Why was she here? As they approached the end of the hallway she could hear the violin.

"She's in here. You're safe to go in." The nurse opened a door for her and Céline nervously went inside. The room was large and mostly empty. A large piece of glass separated the two halves of the room. On one side was Céline. On the other Eurus was playing the violin. It was a Beethoven concerto.

* * *

Mycroft got to Sherrinford and rushed inside. The nurse was just returning to the front desk after taking Céline to Eurus.

"Hello." She greeted.

"Hello, I came last minute. Didn't schedule an appointment." Before the nurse could argue Mycroft pulled out his government ID. "I know where Eurus's room is, I'll just head there now. Thank you." Mycroft curtly spoke before heading down the hallway.

* * *

Eurus finished the concerto and looked over at Céline, looking her up and down. Céline was suddenly frightened and took a step back.

"You're not thinking of going are you?" Eurus spoke. Her tone calculated and clear.

"I think I will go…" Céline began taking a step back. She ran into someone when she stepped back and jumped. It was Mycroft.

"I came as soon as I heard," Mycroft spoke, his gaze fixed on Eurus. He protectively set a hand on Céline's shoulder. Eurus watched this.

"Mycroft, I knew Sherlock had fallen to her charm…" Eurus's head tilted slowly as she spoke. "But I didn't think that you..."

"What are you trying to do?" Mycroft asked, cutting her off before she could finish her question. Eurus smiled.

"Nothing brother." Eurus sweetly spoke. Céline was frozen to the floor where she stood. Mycroft glared.

"We won't be having another Redbeard." He spoke to Eurus before turning. "Let's go, Céline." Céline nodded and followed Mycroft out. A cold chill ran down her spine as she felt Eurus's eyes until they left. In the car, they were both quiet for a long time.

"Why did you come out here?" Mycroft asked, avoiding Céline's eyes. She was visibly shaken up and reached into her pocket to retrieve the note from her father before passing it to Mycroft. Mycroft opened it and read it over. Eurus had used her father to lure her there.

"Who is she? Is she really…" Céline began.

"She is. Her name is Eurus. She was sent to Sherrinford after she burnt down our mansion when we were kids…." Mycroft explained before passing Céline the note back. Céline took it and shoved it into her pocket. "Do you remember Redbeard? I brought it up before." Mycroft asked as the car started up.

"Yes…I do." Céline replied, thinking back to the lunch her and Mycroft had when Sherlock was acting out about Céline and Lestrade's relationship.

"Redbeard…his real name was Victor, Victor Trevor. He and Sherlock were inseparable. This upset Eurus, and one day. While he and Victor were out playing pirates. Eurus led him away and…he disappeared." Céline watched Mycroft with wide-eyes as he explained. "Sherlock doesn't speak of it, nor does he remember. He rewrote his mind palace to forget Eurus and to forget Victor."

"So…is that why she invited me here?" Céline asked, frightened.

"Perhaps. But, I got here before anything bad happened. I'd rather not worry about the what if's." Mycroft honestly spoke, looking at Céline for the first time since they got into the car. He and Céline held each other's gazes for a long moment before Mycroft broke it. The look surprised Céline, it had the same softness that Sherlock looked at her with. "Let's keep this between us," Mycroft spoke. Céline nodded, staring down at her lap.

"Lets." Céline softly spoke, agreeing. Her thoughts drifted to what Eurus said and quietly she studied Mycroft as he looked out the window on the way back to 221b Baker Street.

 _Mycroft, I knew Sherlock had fallen to her charm…But I didn't think that you..._


	34. The Hounds of Baskerville 3

After dropping Céline off at 221b Baker Street Mycroft returned to his office and made himself a cup of tea. However, before he could enjoy it he got a text message about a security breach Sherlock had caused at the facility near Baskerville. Swiftly, Mycroft texted his brother.

 _What are you doing?_

 _M_

Sherlock was busy with the Major of the facility when he got Mycroft's text so he ignored it. After a few more minutes Mycroft scoffed in annoyance and sent another message to his brother.

 _What's going on Sherlock?_

 _M_

As Sherlock and Watson poked around the military facility and went to visit Henry to try and get to the bottom of the monster's location. Lestrade was sitting in the bar on the bottom floor of the Inn they were all staying. He was frustrated. He came to this place in the middle of nowhere to escape. To deal with the pain he felt with his failing marriage and the loneliness he felt when he thought of Sherlock and Céline. But of course, Sherlock had to show up here. On a case. Lestrade let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes, raising his hand to get the bartenders attention for another round of beers.

* * *

About an hour later, Sherlock and Watson were back at the inn. They were sitting by a fire talking about the events of the day. Sherlock saw Lestrade at the bar but decided not to bother him.

"Well, he is in a pretty bad way. He's manic, totally convinced there's some mutant super-dog roaming the moors. And there isn't, though, is there? 'Cause if people knew how to make a mutant super-dog, we'd know." Watson observed. Sherlock was feeling flustered, he had seen something out there. He and Henry had gone to see if he could find the location of the monster but to his surprise, it was there. It manifested. Sherlock took a deep breath and checked his nicotine patches. He had promised Céline before leaving that he wouldn't smoke on the trip and he was trying hard to not break the promise. The anxiety the encounter gave him was enough for him to smoke through an entire pack. "They'd be for sale. I mean, that's how it works." Watson continued before suddenly remembering something and took out his notebook. On the way to the location, Watson had become separated from Sherlock and Henry. "On the moor, I saw someone signaling. Er, Morse, I guess it's Morse." Sherlock felt his ears begin to ring. It was what Céline would describe when she had her panic attacks. Sherlock was desperately trying to feign one off with logic. Watson continued to ask him questions but his mind was too focused on the encounter. He wanted to call Céline but knew due to the remoteness of the inn that he wouldn't be able to reach her. Finally, Sherlock cut off Watson.

"Henry's right." Sherlock simply spoke.

"What?" Watson asked, surprised at how shaken up Sherlock was.

"I saw it too," Sherlock replied. Watson studied Sherlock and took a sip of his beer he drank.

"You saw what?" Watson asked. Sherlock rubbed his eyes before leaning in. He wouldn't usually be this open with anyone but Céline but he felt like he had no other options.

"A hound, out there in the Hollow. A gigantic hound." Sherlock explained, Watson was confused.

"Kook, Sherlock, we have to be rational about this, okay? Now you, of all people, can't just…Let's just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts." Watson encouraged. He didn't believe Sherlock.

"Once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true," Sherlock spoke, wishing he could be talking through this with Céline.

"What does that mean?" Watson asked. Sherlock frowned and picked up Watson's drink. The glass shook in his hands.

"Look at me. I'm afraid, John. Afraid." Sherlock explained. "I've always been able to keep myself distant, divorce myself from feelings…But look, you see? My body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions. The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment." Sherlock snapped. "I wish Céline had come." Watson watched him and sigh, also wishing that Céline was there to calm him down.

"Yeah, all right, Spock, just take it easy…I mean, you've been pretty wired lately, you know you have. I think you've just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up." Watson coaxed. Sherlock gave him a look of death.

"Worked up?" Sherlock spat, unconvinced.

"It was dark and scary!" Watson suggested. Sherlock laughed.

"Me?! There's nothing wrong with me." The anxiety got worse the more he tried to deny it and Watson could see his chest rise and fall as if he was hyperventilating. A splitting headache wracked his head.

"Sherlock?" Watson asked, worried.

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Sherlock shouted, his face red. This caught Lestrade's attention from the bar and he watched. He was a bit drunk.

"We're looking for a dog, yes, a great big dog, that's your brilliant theory? Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start?" Sherlock's gaze went toward a woman and a man eating in the corner. Watson was getting embarrassed. "How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman. The answer's yes." Watson cleared his throat nervously.

"Yes?" Watson spoke. Lestrade watched from his seat.

"She's got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what we're looking for….Look at the jumper he's wearing Watson. Hardly worn. Clearly, he's uncomfortable in it. Maybe it's because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it's a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother's good books. Why? Almost certainly money. He's treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her, but he's trying to economize on his own food." Sherlock spoke, his eyes fixed on the couple in the corner.

"Well, maybe he's just not hungry," Watson suggested, getting annoyed.

"No, small plate. Starter. He's practically licked it clean. She's nearly finished her pavlova. If she'd treated him, he'd have had as much as he wanted. He's hungry all right, and not well off, you can tell that by the state of his cuffs and shoes. Now, how did I know she's his mother? Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be an aunt or an elder sister, but the mother's more likely. Now, he was a fisherman. Scarring pattern on his hands, very distinctive, fish hooks. They're all quite old now, which suggests he's been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he's turned to his widowed mother for help. Widowed? Yes, obviously. She's got a man's wedding ring on a chain around her neck, clearly her late husband's and too big for her finger. She's well-dressed but her jewelry is cheap. She could afford better, but she's kept it, it's sentimental. Now, the dog, tiny little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but no hairs above the knees, suggesting it's a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact, it is a West Highland terrier called Whisky." Sherlock snapped, Watson cut him off.

"How the hell do you know her dog's name, Sherlock?" Watson asked, not sure where these observations were going.

"Cause she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name and that's not cheating, that's listening. I use my senses, John, unlike some people, so you see, I am fine, in fact, I've never been better, so just Leave. Me. Alone." Sherlock spat, in a bad mood. Watson stood.

"And why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend." Watson scoffed under his breath. In Sherlock's rage, he quickly snapped back.

"I don't have friends." Sherlock snapped.

"Then what do you call Céline?" Watson quickly snapped back. This made Sherlock get quiet and he crossed his arms.

"I don't have friends," Sherlock repeated.

"Wonder why?" Watson snapped before leaving. Sherlock sat there alone for a long moment before getting to his feet and rushing outside. He sat on the ground just around the corner from the entrance with his back to the building. It was 1 am. Lestrade paid for his tab and followed Sherlock out. He couldn't understand, how someone so cruel and vile had Céline. As he got outside Sherlock was nowhere to be found. Lestrade frowned and looked around before he heard Sherlock around the corner. He slowly approached and stopped in his tracks.

"Céline? Céline, can you hear me?" Sherlock spoke, Lestrade was surprised by his tone. It was as if he was holding back tears. Sherlock had found a small area of service and called her. On the other line, Céline was sleepy. She had been passed out when she received the call but quickly answered and was now pacing in one of Sherlock's robes in the front room.

"Yes, I can hear you, what is it?" Céline asked, her voice soft. She could hear the worry in his voice. Sherlock sniffled into the line and covered his face with his hands. Hearing her voice set him off. A flood of tears took him over. It shocked him and confused him. Céline listened on the line and frowned. "Sherlock? Sherlock, are you crying?" She was surprised. Lestrade was also surprised. He brought his hands to his face and closed his eyes tight, listening to Sherlock.

"Is there something wrong with me?" Sherlock asked Céline through his tears.

"What do you mean? Of course, there's nothing wrong with you." Céline replied. "What's happened?"

"I just miss you. I don't want to be doing this without you." Sherlock quickly spoke. "I love you so much and being away hurts. But I don't know why. I've never felt this before. Emotions, it's been something I've avoided. I feel like I'm not myself anymore." Sherlock rambled, not sure of what he was saying or why he was saying it.

"Do you need me to come down there?" Céline offered.

"No, you don't need to." Sherlock lied, he wiped his tears with the back of his hand and sniffled. Lestrade just stood in shock, processing through what he had just heard. Before Sherlock spoke again Lestrade turned on his heels and went inside.

"Are you sure?" Céline pressed.

"Yes, I…I'm sorry." Sherlock was coming down from the episode and shook his head. "I don't know what came over me."

"Sherlock…I love you." Céline softly spoke. "Hurry home." A small smile spread on Sherlock's lips.

"I'll be home the day after tomorrow. Before noon. I promise." Sherlock softly spoke back. "Goodnight, Céline."

* * *

When Lestrade returned to his room he heard his phone go off. It was Mycroft.

 _I heard you are on a little vacation in the same location as my brother. Give me a call when you can._


	35. The Hounds of Baskerville 4

The next morning Sherlock found Watson in a church graveyard looking through notes. The previous evening Watson had tried talking to Henry's therapist after their fight but to no avail because his cover was blown. He and Sherlock both noticed each other and tensed up.

"Did you…get anywhere with that Morse code?" Sherlock awkwardly asked. Watson shook his head.

"No." Watson snapped, still frustrated.

"U, M, Q, R, A, wasn't it? UMQRA." Sherlock suggested, scratching his head.

"Look, forget it. It's ... I thought I was on to something. I wasn't." Watson frowned.

"Sure?" Sherlock asked. Watson nodded. "Too bad…How about Louise Mortimer, Henry's therapist? Did you get anywhere with her?"

"No." Watson curtly responded again, still upset with Sherlock for how he acted that night. "Are you being funny now?" Watson asked, crossing his arms.

"Thought it might break the ice a bit," Sherlock replied.

"Funny doesn't suit you. I'd stick to ice." Watson snapped.

"John…" Sherlock responded, his tone suddenly serious.

"It's fine." Watson lied.

"No, wait. What happened last night. Something happened to me, something I've not really experienced before…" Sherlock spoke. Watson cut him off.

"Yes, you said, fear. Sherlock Holmes got scared. You said." Watson snapped, trying to turn and walk away. Sherlock stopped him.

"No, no, no, it was more than that, John. It was doubt. I felt doubt. I've _always_ been able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night." Sherlock spoke. Watson rolled his eyes.

"You can't actually believe that you saw some kind of monster." Watson protested. Sherlock frowned and shook his head.

"No, I can't believe that. But I did see it, so the question is, how?" Sherlock spoke.

"Yes. Yeah, right, good. So you've got something to go on, then? Good luck with that." Watson curtly spoke before turning to leave. Sherlock was surprised and quickly followed him.

"Listen, what I said before, John….I was wrong," Sherlock spoke. This got Watson's attention. "I have you and Céline. I shouldn't take that for granted." Watson watched him for a moment before nodding.

"Yes, all right! You're forgiven." Watson spoke and with that, they returned to the small pub at the inn. They began to ponder over some of Watson's notes and were talking about the possibility that HOUND was an acronym.

"You think it's an acronym?" Watson asked Sherlock as he stared at the notebook.

"Absolutely no idea…" Sherlock began but before he could finish Lestrade approached the two men. He had called Mycroft the previous evening and had been put to the task of keeping an eye on Sherlock for Mycroft. He was also a bit distracted by the previous evening. He wanted to make sure Sherlock didnt know he had seen what he saw. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Sherlock frowned, he remembered seeing Lestrade but thought they would avoid eachother.

"I'm on holiday, would you believe?" Lestrade spoke. Sherlock perked an eyebrow. "I heard you were in the area. What are you up to? You after this Hound of Hell like on the telly?"

"I'm waiting for an explanation, Inspector. Why are you here?" Sherlock frowned. "After last night at the bar I would have thought you'd be in bed still." Lestrade rolled his eyes at the observation but before he could explain himself Sherlock continued. "Oh, this is Mycroft, isn't it?" Sherlock observed.

"No, look!" Mycroft began, his face flushing. Sherlock scoffed.

"Of _course_ it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to spy on me incognito. Is that why you're calling yourself Greg?" Sherlock snapped. Lestrade was taken aback.

"That's his name," Watson spoke.

"That's his name?" Sherlock asked, surprised.

"Yes, if you'd ever bothered to find out. Look, I'm not your handler and I don't just do what your brother tells me." Lestrade protested. Watson began to think of a little plan as Sherlock and Lestrade argued.

"Actually, you could be just the man we want," Watson spoke up. Sherlock frowned.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, I've not been idle, Sherlock. I think I might have found something." Watson retrieved an invoice from his pocket that he found while rummaging around. "Here. Didn't know if it was relevant; starting to look like it might be. That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant." Sherlock perked an eyebrow. "Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls might come in very handy."

* * *

After a long investigation into the abnormal meat purchase with Lestrade, Sherlock and Watson returned to the military base to see the Major. After almost no time it was evening. Watson and Sherlock were standing over a hacked computer with a scientist from the compound. Sherlock, Watson and the scientist were reading over the trials and experiments.

 _"_ Project HOUND: a new deliriant drug which rendered its users incredibly suggestible. They wanted to use it as an anti-personnel weapon to totally disorientate the enemy using fear and stimulus, but they shut it down and hid it away in 1986." Sherlock read. The scientist frowned.

"Because of what it did to the subjects they tested it on." He observed. Sherlock nodded.

"And what they did to others. Prolonged exposure drove them insane, made them almost uncontrollably aggressive." Sherlock continued. Watson got the chills.

"So someone's been doing it again, carrying on the experiments?" Watson asked.

"Attempting to refine it, perhaps, for the last twenty years," Sherlock responded, his suspicions going to who was responsible. Suddenly Watson got a call, it was a number not in his contacts and he and Sherlock exchanged a confused glance. Watson entered.

"Hello?" Watson asked. Sherlock could hear a woman crying on the other line. Watson frowned. "Who's this?"

"You've got to find Henry." The voice spoke, Watson quickly recognized it as Henry's therapist.

"Louise, what's wrong?" Watson asked.

"Henry was, he was remembering…then...He's got a gun. He went for the gun and tried to…" She couldn't finish and broke down into sobs. "He's gone. You've got to stop him. I don't know what he might do."

"Where are you?" Watson asked.

"His house. I'm okay." She replied. Watson breathed a sigh of relief.

"Right, stay there. We'll get someone to you, okay?" Watson spoke before hanging up and turning to Sherlock.

"Henry?" Sherlock observed.

"He's attacked her and gone," Watson replied. Sherlock nodded and stood, calling Lestrade.

"There's only one place he'll go to: back to where it all started. _(_ Lestrade. Get to the Hollow. Dewer's Hollow, now. And bring a gun." Sherlock snapped into the phone once Lestrade answered. Sherlock and Watson then took off for Harry. They found him about to shoot himself in the bottom of the Hollow.

 _"_ No, Henry, no! No!" Sherlock shouted. Henry stood and looked at them with wide eyes. He waved the gun around.

"Get back. Get away from me!" He cried. Watson raised a hand.

"Easy, Henry. Easy. Just relax." Watson spoke, trying to calm him down. Henry shook his head.

"I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!" Henry shouted.

"Just put the gun down. It's okay." Watson tried again but Henry shouted in protest once more.

"No, no, I know what I am!" Henry screamed. Sherlock stepped in before Watson could speak up again.

"Yes, I'm sure you do, Henry. It's all been explained to you, hasn't it explained very carefully. Someone needed to keep you quiet; needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you'd both clung on to because you had started to remember." As Sherlock spoke he slowly walked toward Henry. "Remember now, Henry. You've got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy."

" I thought it had got my dad, the hound. I thought, oh Jesus, I don't KNOW ANYMORE!" Henry aimed the gun for his head as he shouted again. Watson felt sick but Sherlock continued to speak to him, his tone was soft. It was the same tone that he spoke to Céline with when she fell victim to her panic attacks.

"Henry, remember. Liberty In. Two words, two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago. You'd started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn't an animal, was it, Henry? Not a monster. A man." Sherlock spoke. Henry quickly calmed down. Sherlock could see his eyes coming back to reality. It was a good sign. _"_ You couldn't cope. You were just a child, so you rationalised it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no one would believe a word that you said." Lestrade pulled up as Sherlock spoke and he showed down to them as he came down the hill toward the hollow. Henry looked in his direction but quickly turned back to Sherlock. Sherlock slowly removed the gun from Henry's hands as he spoke.

"But we saw it, the hound, last night," Henry argued. Sherlock shook his head.

"Yeah, but there was a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it – saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that's how it works. But there never was any monster…." All of a sudden fog picked up in the Hollow and a large figure became clear in the shadow. Watson saw it and frowned.

"Sherlock." Sherlock quickly turned and followed his gaze, surprised but trying to remember that this was the effects of a drug. Henry began to shout no over and over again, panicked. Sherlock turned back to him. "Henry!" Everyone was feeling the effects. Lestrade and Watson were also locked onto the dog in fear. "All right! It's still here but it's just a dog. Henry! It's nothing more than an ordinary dog!" The dog began to show aggression toward the hallucinating men and in the commotion, Sherlock fell backward and saw a figure emerge from the mist with a breathing mask over his face. As Lestrade and Watson fought to get the dog away from Henry. Sherlock rushed toward the figure. It grabbed him and Sherlock began to struggle, ripping the mask off. In his drug-induced state, he saw Moriarty.

"It's not you! You're not here!" Sherlock snapped.

"Tell me, if I touch her again, will you kill me?" Moriarty spoke before grabbing Sherlock and covering his mouth and nose. Sherlock struggled and eventually headbutted the figure in the face, gasping for air. As he looked around he noticed the thick mist that had developed and when he looked back at the figure it was one of the scientists, the one responsible for the experiments.

"The Fog," Sherlock spoke. "It's the fog! The drug: it's in the fog! Aerosol dispersal that's what it said in those records. Project HOUND, it's the fog! A chemical minefield!" Sherlock shouted. Lestrade quickly brought his arm to his mouth and nose. Sherlock rushed over to Henry. The sudden movement made the figure of the hound ready to attack and Watson was forced to shoot. He hit the hound and a loud yelp was heard through the Hollow.

"Look at it, Henry." Sherlock encouraged, pushing him toward the figure. Henry tried to protest but eventually, he gathered the courage and saw the large dog. Henry quickly turned to the scientist who had shown up. The one who was responsible for his father's death and the experiments.

"You _bastard!_ Twenty years! Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didn't you just kill me?!" As Henry spoke he attacked, Watson and Lestrade eventually pulled him off. Sherlock stepped in.

"Because dead men get listened to. He needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet, a chemical minefield, pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here. Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once." Sherlock spoke, he pulled out his phone and texted Céline.

 _See you soon. It's over._

"This means that my dad was right. He found something out, didn't he, and that's why you'd killed him, because he was _right_ , and he'd found you right in the middle of an experiment." Henry spoke, but before anything could be said the scientist took off running. Watson, Lestrade, and Sherlock quickly rushed after him but they were too late and by the time they reached him, he had just jumped over the fence blocking off the minefield and stepped on a pressure pad.

* * *

When they got back to the Inn, Sherlock decided to take a cab home that evening and left Watson behind in Dewer's Hollow. It was just past midnight and after the four hour drive it was nearly 5 am. Sherlock quietly crept upstairs and took of his coat, hanging it before going into the bedroom. Céline was fast asleep in his tartan dressing gown. Sherlock smiled and watched her for a moment before undressing himself and getting into bed. Céline drifted awake when she felt him.

"Sherlock?" She asked as he took her into his arms.

"Yes?" He asked, nuzzling into her.

"What time is it?" She cooed, turning toward him to rest her head against his chest. Sherlock looked at the clock on the wall.

"5:15." Sherlock replied. Céline giggled a bit.

"This wasn't what I had in mind when you said see you soon." She teased. Sherlock brushed his nose against hers and gave her a little kiss on the lips that she returned.

"You didnt miss me?" Sherlock pouted, making Céline giggle again.

"Of course I did. I love you." She replied, gently smacking his chest. Sherlock nuzzled his face into her neck and breathed in her scent.

"I love you too, Céline." He softly spoke, and with that, they both fell fast asleep.


	36. The Reichenbach Fall 1

AH! I cannot believe it puddin's, we're here at the saddest episode, The Reichenbach Fall. And the most intense episode of the story so far! Please review and let me know what you think. This chapter is short because it's kinda like an "opening teaser". xoxo!

* * *

Céline was laying in a large bedroom. Her back was to the door and she laid on her side facing the wall. Her head rested near the end of the bed. The bedroom was well furnished. It looked like part of a castle. She was in Mycroft's home. In his guest bedroom. She had been laying there for a week. At the end of the bed was a tray of food Mycroft had brought for her, but it was untouched. The door creaked open and Mycroft came in. He frowned at the untouched tray of food.

"Céline, you need to eat something," Mycroft spoke, watching her. She didn't move. Her gaze still fixed on the wall, her eyes were glazed over, her hands clutched a newspaper. Mycroft sigh and sat on the end of the bed beside her head. "Céline..." he softly spoke, gently touching her arm. She finally moved and sat up on one arm. Mycroft watched her, waiting for her to say something. But she looked at him and her face said it all. Tears built up in her eyes and began to spill onto her face. Mycroft quickly wrapped her up into his arms to comfort her and she began to sob. Mycroft took the newspaper from her hands and set it aside as she cried into his arms. The headline of the paper read.

 ** _"SUICIDE OF FAKE GENIUS"_**


	37. The Reichenbach Fall 2

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

Céline was standing in a gallery with a glass of wine in a group of patrons, watching as a painting was revealed. The event had a black tie dress code and she wore a floor-length velvet turtleneck dress with an open back. Sherlock and Watson stood beside the director of the gallery as he unveiled the painting on stage. They were both in tuxedos. Applause erupted from the audience and Céline made eye contact with Sherlock. She giggled at his uncomfortable facial expression. When the applause died down the director spoke.

"Falls of the Reichenbach, Turner's masterpiece, thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes." As he spoke he removed a small box from his pocket. "A small token of our gratitude." Sherlock took the box and opened it.

"Diamond cufflinks. All my cuffs have buttons." Sherlock explained, not wanting to wrongly accept the gift. Watson nudged him.

"He means thank you." Watson quickly corrected. Another applause erupted and when it died down the event began again. Sherlock quickly went to Céline and wrapped his arm around her waist. Watson went to flirt with some of the women looking at the painting.

"Can we go?" Sherlock whispered into Céline's ear. "I want to go." Céline giggled and nodded before finishing her glass of wine and passing it to a waiter. As they left photographers and paparazzi cornered them.

"Sherlock, is this your girlfriend?" One of the reporters asked as Sherlock hailed a cab.

"What is it like dating such a genius?" Another reporter asked.

"What is a typical date of yours like?" A third reporter asked as Céline and Sherlock got into the cab. Sherlock quickly closed the door behind them and asked the driver to take them to 221b Baker Street. Once they were off he adjusted his tie.

"Thank god that's over." He sighed, taking Céline's hand. She squeezed it reassuringly.

"I hope you know, you deserve all the praise." Céline softly spoke, watching him with a look of pride. Sherlock brushed it off and shrugged.

"Some days I'm not sure." He honestly replied. Céline thought about Watson's latest paparazzi scheme involving Sherlock's iconic hat and giggled. Sherlock gave her a small smile.

"What are you giggling at?" Sherlock asked, blushing. Céline smiled at him.

"I was just thinking, it's a shame you didn't bring the hat." Céline teased. Sherlock flushed a deeper shade of red and grimaced.

"I will never bring the hat if Watson doesn't make me." Sherlock grimaced.

* * *

That evening Sherlock was fast asleep in Céline's arms. She couldn't sleep, and to make it worse, for some reason, she was getting a bad feeling in her gut. She gently removed Sherlock's arms from around her. He slightly woke up and protested at this, pulling her close again. Céline giggled a bit and kissed his forehead.

"I'll be back in a minute." She whispered as he pouted.

"I'll be counting." Sherlock sleepily spoke, letting her get up. Céline stood and stretched, leaving the bedroom and grabbing her coat. She was wearing her sleeping gown but she wanted to take a walk to clear her head. After tying her trench coat and slipping on some flats she stepped out into the cold night air. Céline took a deep breath before starting her usual short walk. The street was quiet. For the first time in weeks, there was no paparazzi waiting outside and she was thankful. After a few minutes of walking in silence, her phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket. Céline quickly took it out, expecting it to be Sherlock. But instead, it was a blocked number calling her. She felt really frightened suddenly and let it ring until it went to voicemail. After a moment of her phone being silent. Céline turned on her heels to walk back to 221b Baker Street again but to her dismay, the phone began ringing again once she got to the front door. Céline looked from the phone to the street, no-one was near. The street was empty, no-one was watching. Out of morbid curiosity, Céline answered and brought the phone to her ear.

"Hello? Who is this?" Céline asked. She could hear breathing on the other line and felt a cold chill down her spine.

"You've made him into a Robin Hood haven't you?" Moriarty spoke. Céline felt her heart stop but before she could move to hang up he spoke again. "Don't hang up or you'll be sorry." Céline looked around again, pressing her back to the door to 221b Baker Street.

"Why are you calling me?" Céline finally asked, feeling frightened.

"I dunno." Moriarty spoke, his tone flippant. Céline thickly swallowed. "Enjoy him while he lasts, it's not going to be much longer."

"Who are you to say that?" Céline quickly snapped back.

"He's going to come and play with me tomorrow." Moriarty continued. "And you won't be able to stop him…" Before Céline could reply there was a click and Moriarty had hung up.


	38. The Reichenbach Fall 3

Hiya puddin's we're diving in today! I've been reading your reviews and I am going to try and make chapters longer/covering more of the story! I hope you all enjoy. xoxo

* * *

Céline was sitting on the couch in the front room. It was still the middle of the night. Sherlock was pacing around the room, he was on the phone with Mycroft Explaining the situation. Her mind was in another place. In the background, she could hear Sherlock speaking but she wasn't paying attention to them. She was staring at her phone.

"Céline?" Sherlock asked. He saw she was checked out and not paying attention and he went and knelt in front of her. "Céline?" Céline snapped out of it and looked up at him.

"Sorry…" She shook her head. "Sorry...what?" Sherlock passed her his phone.

"It's Mycroft. He wanted to speak to you." Sherlock explained. Céline nodded and brought the phone to her ear. Sherlock could tell she was putting on a brave face and trying really hard to keep her anxiety at bay. He sighed and put his hand on her knee, gently rubbing it with his thumb to calm her.

"Hello?" Céline spoke into the phone. Mycroft's tone was worried but he was trying to hide it. He was angry that she was put in the middle of this situation with Moriarty and Sherlock.

"You're sure it was him?" Mycroft asked, needing to hear her confirm the news with her own voice.

"Yes…there's no way it was anyone else...I'm sure." Céline explained. Mycroft rubbed his eyes. There was a long moment of silence. Mycroft was worried and anxious about her safety.

"Alright…Are you okay?" Mycroft asked, dropping his defense around how he had begun to feel about Céline in favor of making sure she was alright. Céline paused for a long moment, a bit surprised by the question.

"I will be." She replied before passing the phone back to Sherlock. Sherlock stood and went into the kitchen to speak to Mycroft. When he returned to the room Céline was beginning to tear up. Her face was in her hands. Sherlock quickly rushed to her side and picked her up into his arms.

"I don't want anything to happen. Not again…" Céline began to cry. Sherlock rubbed her back, he felt defensive and responsible.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I won't let anything happen to you ever again." Sherlock spoke, nuzzling his face into her hair. The rest of the night the two held onto each other, both afraid for whatever situation they were about to be thrust into.

* * *

The next morning everything seemed normal at the Tower of London. Moriarty emerged from a car. He was dressed in tourist garb. As he made his way over to security he took various photos of the area around. As he got to security he took off his jacket and stepped through the metal detector. A beep went off and a security guard looked Moriarty over.

"Any metal objects, keys, mobile phones?" The security guard asked. Moriarty smiled and took out his phone, an apologetic look on his face. He passed it over and the security guard gave it a look before passing it back. "You can go through." Moriarty smiled and took his phone back before walking into the building. He quickly set his sights on going to a display featuring the Crown Jewels.

* * *

Céline was sitting at her desk at Scotland Yard. She had been filing paperwork quietly all day. Each minute that passed felt like forever. Lestrade noticed she had been a bit off all day and had been occasionally peaking over at her. Céline couldn't stop checking her phone. Sherlock had agreed to text her immediately if anything happened. Sherlock had assured her that nothing was going to happen. He wanted to give off the impression that he didn't believe Moriarty was going to return. But Céline knew better. She knew it was a matter of time.

* * *

Moriarty continued into the room and stood in front of the Crown Jewels. Watching them with greedy eyes. A small smirk pricked up onto his lips and he put in a pair of headphones. After plugging them into his phone he began to play an overture. In two other places, the Bank of England and Pentonville Prison, his plans were ready. After a short while of listening to Moriarty lifted his phone and scrolled through before clicking into some apps. After messing around for a moment an alarm in the Tower of London went off.

"This is an emergency. Please leave the building." An automated voice called from the speaker. People around Moriarty began to leave. When he was the only one left a guard approached him from behind.

* * *

Céline's heart stopped when she heard her phone go off. It was a security call, from the Tower of London. Her hand began to shake but she thickly swallowed down the anxiety before answering.

"Hello…" Céline began. Lestrade stood and walked to the door of his office when he saw she got the call. He wanted to see what it was about. When Céline hung up, she frantically stood and collected her things.

"Hey, slow down! What happened?" Lestrade asked, grabbing her arms and steadying her.

"Greg, we have to go. It's him." Céline spoke, her tone was serious and frantic. She pulled away and grabbed her trench coat.

"Who?" Lestrade asked, taken aback.

* * *

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to lea…" The guard began, speaking to Moriarty. Before he could finish his sentence Moriarty turned on his heels and sprayed a chemical into his face, causing him to collapse and fall onto the ground. In a heartbeat. Moriarty turned his attention to another app and selected some options.

* * *

Céline had explained the situation and was now sitting beside Lestrade in a police car. They were rushing over to the Tower of London. Céline had been trying to get ahold of Sherlock but Moriarty had hacked into his phone and silenced her calls, unbeknownst to Céline or Sherlock.

"Hacked into the Tower of bloody London security?! How?!" Lestrade snapped. Céline hung up another call to Sherlock and as she did another call came in. Céline answered. "Tell them we're already on our way," Lestrade spoke. Céline turned sheet white and hung up the call.

"There's been another one; another break-in…. The Bank of England…" Céline spoke. She brought the knuckle of her thumb to her mouth and chewed on it anxiously for a moment before calling Mycroft.

"Céline," Mycroft answered. "I was just notified…"

* * *

Back in the Tower of London, Moriarty was drawing on the glass with a large marker. He managed to draw a large smiley face that strongly resembled the one in Sherlock's apartment. After a moment of admiring the drawing, he took out his phone for the final time and selected the final app options.

* * *

Another phone call went off on Céline's phone in the middle of her call with Mycroft. Her heart began to speed up.

"Mycroft it's another one," Céline spoke.

"Call me back once you find out where," Mycroft replied. Céline nodded and switched over the calls. Lestrade watched her from the driver's seat as they continued the drive to the Tower of London. Céline hung up after listening to the call and quickly dialed Mycroft back. She had somehow gotten even more sickly pale.

"What happened now?" Lestrade asked.

"Pentonville Prison…" Céline managed to speak through her stress. She got onto the phone with Mycroft and explained the third breach of security as she and Lestrade pulled up to the Tower of London. A group of armed officers were storming inside. Céline stepped out of the car with Lestrade and he went to go talk with the head of the armed officers.

"Mycroft. I need you to tell Sherlock. He's not answering me. I thought he was going to be on call after last night but he's not saying anything…" Céline spoke.

"I'll call him right after this. You just go do what you need to with Scotland Yard. I can keep an eye on him." Mycroft replied. Céline nodded.

"Thank you, Mycroft." Céline softly spoke before hanging up the phone and turning back to the scene. As she approached she stopped in her tracks. Moriarty was being dragged toward a police car. When he saw Céline a large smile formed on his face and he stopped for a second, struggling with the officers. He offered Céline a wink before being shoved into the back of a police car.

* * *

Sherlock had also been checking his phone all day. He had been trying to reach Céline to check in with her to no avail. He also couldn't figure out why his messages to Céline were not going through. A few hours before he had given up and his phone sat on the couch chair. Suddenly, a text alert went off. Sherlock perked up and walked over, eager to see if it was Céline. But his face quickly fell.

 _Come and play._

 _Tower Hill._

 _Jim Moriarty x._


	39. The Reichenbach Fall 4

Céline was sitting in bed watching as Sherlock got dressed.

"Are you ready?" Céline softly asked. She was dressed more formal than usual, instead of her trench coat she wore a blazer over her usual turtleneck dress, underneath she wore sheer tights. A pair of heels were sitting on the floor. Sherlock took a deep breath at the question and buttoned his suit.

"I'm not convinced," Sherlock spoke, he went to the bed and sat beside Céline, taking her hand and kissing the top of it.

"Me either," Céline spoke, bringing his hand to her face. "Promise me something." Sherlock ran his thumb along her cheek.

"Anything," Sherlock spoke.

"Don't play his game, don't get sucked in. I don't want to lose you." Céline spoke. Sherlock sighed and kissed her forehead before standing.

"I don't know if I can promise that…" He began before someone knocked. Céline sighed and stood up, walking to get the door. Watson stepped in.

"Are you two ready?" Watson asked, sensing the tension in the room. Céline didn't reply and left the room, grabbing her shoes as she left. Sherlock shrugged in response to Watson's question and followed behind her.

* * *

The courtroom was silent. Céline and Watson sat together in the rafters, waiting for proceedings to start. Céline was nervous.

"What happened?" Watson asked. Céline signed and played with her hair nervously.

"Well…I'm just worried." Céline softly spoke. "Moriarty is here for a reason. I don't want Sherlock to take the bait." Watson nodded.

"I tried talking to him last night. Told him to keep things simple and brief." Watson explained, trying to calm her down. Céline didn't reply, she just gave Watson a look. Watson sigh. "Let's just hope he doesn't try to be a smart arse." Watson encouraged.

"He couldn't promise me that he wouldn't get sucked in John," Céline spoke after a moment of silence. "I'm worried that…" The sound of a gavel interrupted them and the whole room stood as the judge slowly tracked in. After, Moriarty was led in with his lawyer. The second he entered he scanned the crowd for Céline and locked onto her. Watson frowned at this and glared.

"Ignore him." Watson softly spoke. Céline nodded, glaring at Moriarty. Her mind was racing with what the reporters had been saying all morning.

"…This is the trial of the century."

"…James Moriarty, earlier today accused of attempting to steal the Crown Jewels"

"…At the Old Bailey, we have Reichenbach Hero Sherlock Holmes."

And the trial began.

* * *

As the trial began Sherlock was in the bathroom. He was staring in the mirror after washing his hands. His mind racing with what Céline had said to him that morning. She was right. Moriarty was there by choice. Sherlock's thoughts were suddenly cut off by an announcement over the intercom.

"Crown versus Moriarty, please proceed to Court Ten." The announcement spoke. Sherlock straightened his tie and turned to go but he ran into a woman with a deerstalker hat on. When she studied him for a moment she dropped her bag.

"You're him." The woman, a reporter named Kitty, spoke. Sherlock quickly saw her "I heart Sherlock" hat on and felt uncomfortable.

"Wrong toilet," Sherlock spoke toward her before trying to leave. She grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"I'm a big fan." Kitty continued. Sherlock sigh.

"Evidently." He sarcastically spoke.

"I read your cases, I follow them all. Sign my shirt, would you?" Kitty spoke. She stuck her chest out at him, holding out a pen. Sherlock frowned.

"There are two types of fans. Catch me before I kill again, Type A…" Before Sherlock could finish the woman cut him off.

"What's Type B?" Kitty spoke. Sherlock grimaced and stepped back.

"Your bedroom's just a taxi ride away," Sherlock observed.

"Guess which one I am?" Kitty asked, biting her lip. Sherlock looked her up and down for a moment.

"Neither." Sherlock snapped. "Those marks on your forearm: edge of a desk. You've been typing in a hurry, probably. Pressure on, facing a deadline. And there's a smudge of ink on your wrist and a bulge in your left jacket pocket. The smudge is deliberate, to see if I'm as good as they say I am….Journalist. Unlikely you'd get your hands dirty at the press. You put that there to test me." Sherlock suddenly spoke. The woman's eyes lit up as he spoke.

"I'm liking you…" She flintily spoke.

"No…" Sherlock snapped. "I'm just saving you the trouble of asking. No, I won't give you an interview. No, I don't want the money." Sherlock pushed past her again.

"You and that girl. Céline is it? She works down at Scotland Yard correct? Does she really live with you?" Kitty pressed. Sherlock felt a surge of annoyance when she brought up Céline. He turned toward her angrily.

"She has nothing to do with this." Sherlock snapped.

"There's all sorts of gossip in the press about you. Sooner or later you're gonna need someone on your side…." Kitty spoke.

"And you think you're the girl for that job, do you?" Sherlock spoke, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Smart, okay: investigative journalist. Good. Well, look at me and tell me what you see." After a pause, Sherlock spoke again. "If you're that skillful, you don't need an interview. You can just read what you need. I look at you and I see someone who's still waiting for their first big scoop so that their editor will notice them. You're wearing an expensive skirt but it's been re-hemmed twice, the only posh skirt you've got. And your nails, you can't afford to do them that often. I see someone who's hungry. I don't see smart, and I don't see trustworthy, but I'll give you a quote if you like three little words." Sherlock snatched the recorder from her pocket. "You repel me." Sherlock snapped into the recorder before he turned and left the room.

* * *

A few minutes later Sherlock was called up to the witness box. Céline was nervously messing with her phone as she watched.

"A "consulting criminal." The Barrister asked.

"Yes," Sherlock replied.

"Your words. Can you expand on that answer?" The Barrister continued.

"James Moriarty is for hire," Sherlock replied.

"A tradesman?" The Barrister pressed. "I take it not the sort who'd fix your heating?"

"No, the sort who'd plant a bomb or stage an assassination, but I'm sure he'd make a pretty decent job of your boiler." Sherlock snapped. Laughter sprinkled throughout the court but it just made Céline more nervous. Moriarty felt annoyed that Sherlock was so confident. Sherlock gave Moriarty a look of triumph and without a seconds thought Moriarty just turned back and looked at Céline before looking back and Sherlock and slightly smirking. Céline saw the interaction between the men and saw Sherlock's demeanor changed to annoyance. The Barrister spoke up again

"Would you describe him as…"

"Leading." Sherlock snapped. Céline felt sick. Moriarty had baited him with her and Sherlock took it.

"What?" The Barrister asked.

"Can't do that. You're leading the witness. He'll object and the judge will uphold." Sherlock spoke. The judge was annoyed and scolded him. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the scolding and continued. "Ask me how. How would I describe him? What opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this?" Sherlock spoke. Céline felt increasingly stressed out as it went on.

"Mr. Holmes, we're fine without your help." The judge snapped. The barrister went to ask another question.

"How would you describe this man, his character?" They asked. Sherlock's eyes were locked on Moriarty.

"First mistake. James Moriarty isn't a man at all – he's a spider; a spider at the center of a web, a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances." Sherlock replied. Céline took out her bag and looked inside for one of her pills, she realized she had not taken her prescription that morning and her anxiety was growing with Sherlock's poor behavior on the stand. She felt like she was going to vomit.

"And how long…" The barrister began. Céline realized she didn't have the pills and tried to just focus on the next question. Sherlock scoffed.

"No, no, don't-don't do that. That's really not a good question." Sherlock began. Céline felt her stomach churn with frustration and anxiety when the judge scolded Sherlock again and she stood to leave the room. Her only focus was exiting. Sherlock watched her go and got more frustrated realizing that he had upset her.

"How long have I known him? Not really your best line of inquiry. We met twice, five minutes in total. I pulled a gun, he tried to blow me up. I felt we had a special something." As Sherlock explained he watched as Moriarty watched Céline leave the room. He turned to Sherlock and gave him a cringe face look. Watson also watched Céline go and felt really annoyed at Sherlock. He got up to go after her and check on her.

"Miss Sorrel, are you seriously claiming this man is an expert, after knowing the accused for just five minutes?" The judge snapped at the barrister. Sherlock jumped in.

"Two minutes would have made me an expert. Five was ample…." Sherlock snapped.

"Mr. Holmes, that's a matter for the jury." The judge snapped. Sherlock turned toward the Jury.

"Oh, really?" Sherlock began.

* * *

When Céline got into the hallway she ran for the restrooms. Her vision was clouded and the space around her was fuzzy. She made it to the bathroom and rushed into the largest stall, throwing her purse aside and falling to her knees in front of the toilet. She vomited all the contents of her stomach, flushed it down the toilet and spent a few minutes sitting on the bathroom floor collecting herself before she grabbed her purse and stumbled to the sink. She studied herself in the mirror for a moment, frowning at her pale face. She rinsed her mouth a few times before splashing her face with water and trying to calm herself down before heading back to the courtroom. When she stepped out of the bathroom Watson was waiting for her.


	40. The Reichenbach Fall 5

Before Céline could say anything to Watson a recess was announced. The two exchanged glances and made it back to the courtroom in time to see Sherlock being dragged away by a policeman to a downstairs cell. Watson was frustrated by this. He and Céline waited for awhile. Watson paced up and down angrily while they waited, after about a half-hour he sat beside Céline. She was sitting on a bench next to the courtroom.

"You should go home, I can wait for him," Watson spoke, he saw she was still sickly pale. Céline nodded.

"Alright, I'll see you both there tonight." She softly spoke before standing and giving Watson a hug before leaving. When she got home she quickly took her prescription and went to lay in bed.

* * *

Sherlock was released about an hour later. Watson was waiting as he signed for his personal items. When he and Sherlock went to head out Watson quickly began to scold him.

"What did I say? I said, 'Don't get clever.'" Watson snapped. Sherlock rolled his eyes as the two men exited the courtroom.

"Where is Céline?" He asked, worried. "Why did she leave like that?" Watson scoffed at the question.

"She's at home. You know why she left." Watson snapped. They got into the cab.

"Well, I can't just turn it on and off like a tap." Sherlock snapped, he was frustrated with himself. Watson stayed quiet. The drive continued in silence for a while until they turned onto Baker Street.

 _"_ Well? You were there for the whole thing, up in the gallery, start to finish…" Sherlock began, referring to Moriarty. Watson sigh and rubbed his eyes.

"He sat on his backside, never even stirred," Watson spoke. The cab parked and Sherlock got out as Watson paid. Sherlock was lost in thought by the apartment door.

"Moriarty's not mounting any defense." He spoke to himself. Watson joined him and they both went inside.

 _"_ Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville. Three of the most secure places in the country and six weeks ago Moriarty breaks in, no one knows how or why. All we know is…" Watson began as they went up the stairs.

"…he ended up in custody," Sherlock spoke. When they went inside the front room Sherlock and Watson heard Céline in the kitchen making tea. Watson gave Sherlock a look and shoved his keys into his pocket before retreating to his bedroom. Sherlock nervously stuck his hands in his pockets and went into the kitchen. Céline looked up at him and watched him for a moment before going back to her tea.

"Look…I'm…" Sherlock began. "I'm sorry." He hated disappointing her. Céline sat silent for a second to make him sweat but eventually, she went up to him and took his face into her hands, kissing him.

* * *

Sherlock and Céline spent the final days of the trial alone at home. Watson went each day to watch and would update them. The final day they were holding each other in bed. Céline's head rested on his chest. Sherlock suddenly began to whisper and Céline sat up on one arm and listened, staring off into space.

 _"_ Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. James Moriarty stands accused of several counts of attempted burglary, crimes which, if he's found guilty, will elicit a very long custodial sentence and yet his legal team has chosen to offer no evidence whatsoever to support their plea. I find myself in the unusual position of recommending a verdict wholeheartedly. You must find him guilty." Sherlock whispered. Céline thought through his words as he closed his eyes.

"Not guilty," Céline whispered under her breath, getting a feeling. Sherlock's body suddenly was taken over with fear. He sat up and wrapped his arms around Céline's middle. Somewhere, deep down, Sherlock knew this would be the last time. Céline turned back to face him saw the look in his eye and his lips soon crashed onto hers. She obliged and they quickly began undressing each other. Soon he was deep inside her and their bodies were moving together as they made love. Their moans and quick breathing filled the bedroom. The bed frame began to hit the wall as Sherlock thrust into her. She dug her nails into his back and her head fell backward. This continued for a while until the two lovers finally locked eyes. Céline pressed her forehead to his and placed her hands on either side of his face. Sherlock kissed her deeply and suddenly he felt his climax, moaning into the kiss.

When it was over the two of them laid in each other's arms catching their breath. Sherlock laid soft kisses along her cheek and down her neck as their bodies cooled down.

"I love you, Céline." He whispered into her skin as he gave her the kisses. He then wrapped her into his arms. Fear filled his body. For the first time in his life, he was truly afraid to lose her. "Promise me something." Sherlock softly spoke, taking her hands into his.

"Yes." Céline softly spoke back, bringing one of his hand to her face. Sherlock studied her for a long while.

"You're the one. You're my soul." Sherlock spoke, feeling tears prick up in his eyes at the thought of losing her. "You are my heart…" Sherlock stopped speaking and Céline sat up, surprised at the tears rolling down his cheeks. She cupped his face and brought him into her arms.

"Sherlock…" She softly spoke, feeling tears fill her own eyes, and together they cried.

"Promise me you won't forget that." Sherlock whispered.

"I won't, I promise." Céline replied. Suddenly, Sherlock's phone rang. He and Céline exchanged a glance and Sherlock answered, turning the phone to speaker. It was Watson. The trial was over and Moriarty was declared "not guilty".


	41. The Reichenbach Fall 6

Sherlock stood from the bed and set his phone on the counter. He began to get dressed. Watson still was shouting about the verdict into the phone.

"Not Guilty. They found him Not Guilty. No defense and Moriarty's walked free." Watson snapped into the phone. Céline watched Sherlock get dressed. "Sherlock. Are you listening? He's out. You know he'll be coming after you, after you and Céline…" Watson continued. Sherlock went over to the phone and hung up on Watson.

"What was that for?" Céline asked, standing to get dressed too. Sherlock sat on the bed and rubbed his eyes.

"He's coming. You need to leave." Sherlock spoke. Céline frowned and shook her head. She pulled on her dress and adjusted it before walking up to him.

"He's not going to hold power over me anymore. I'm staying." Céline sternly spoke. Sherlock nodded and stood, kissing her forehead.

"I have to get ready," Sherlock spoke before leaving to the kitchen. Céline followed and absentmindedly cleaned up. Sherlock made a pot of tea and laid out the ingredients. He pulled two armchairs by the fire. Céline sat in one and Sherlock poured her a cup of tea how she liked it before taking out his violin and began to play. The two lovers sat in the room for a short time before the downstairs lock could be heard. Céline set her cup down and perked up, glancing at Sherlock. They shared a look for a long moment before hearing a creek of the stairs. Sherlock paused playing for a moment. The silence was so thick one could hear a pin drop. It felt like forever but soon enough Sherlock began to play again. Céline took another sip of her tea. The door slightly creaked open and Céline could feel Moriarty's eyes and surprise that she was there. Céline turned and met his eyes. Before he could say anything Sherlock spoke.

"Most people knock." Sherlock placed his violin into its case as he spoke. "But then you're not most people, I suppose." Sherlock gestured toward the seat across from Céline. "Kettle's just boiled," Sherlock spoke. Moriarty cautiously glanced from Sherlock to Céline and slowly made his way over. He plucked an apple from a bowl on the coffee table.

"Johann Sebastian would be appalled." Moriarty hovered over the chair for a moment and looked at Céline. "May I?" Moriarty asked, gesturing to the seat. Céline nodded.

"Please." Céline smugly spoke before taking another sip of her tea. Their eyes were locked onto each other for a long moment until Moriarty's eyes wandered to her neck. "Watch out for that fresh love bite on your right side," Moriarty spoke, touching his own neck where Céline had a small love bite from her and Sherlock's lovemaking session. Céline glared, but Moriarty quickly changed the subject. He was caught off guard and trying to not let his jealousy get the best of him. He took out a small pocket knife and began cutting the apple,

"You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end…" Moriarty spoke. Sherlock cut him off and passed him a cup of tea.

"And the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it," Sherlock spoke as he set a kitchen chair down beside Céline and sat in it.

"Couldn't cope with an unfinished melody." Moriarty shrugged.

"Neither can you. That's why you've come." Sherlock spoke.

"But be honest, you're just a tiny bit pleased," Moriarty spoke. Céline glared.

"What, with the verdict?" Sherlock scoffed, setting his teacup down to pour Céline more tea. Moriarty watched the interaction with disdain.

"With me, back on the streets. Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain." Moriarty spat. "You need me, or you're nothing. Because we're just alike, you and I, except you're boring." Moriarty's eyes shifted over to Céline. "You're on the side of the angels now," Moriarty spoke. Céline didn't reply and just took a sip of her new cup of tea.

"Got to the jury, of course," Sherlock observed.

"I got into the Tower of London, you think I can't worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?" Moriarty scoffed. "Every hotel bedroom has a personalized TV screen and every person has their pressure point…" Moriarty looked from Sherlock to Céline and let out a little giggle. "Everyone has someone that they want to protect from harm." Moriarty took a long sip before speaking again. "Easy, peasy."

"So how're you going to do it burn me?" Sherlock asked. Céline set her cup of tea down.

"Oh, that's the problem, the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet?" Moriarty asked Sherlock. Sherlock replied by taking a long sip of his tea. Moriarty let out a small giggle again and turned to Céline. "What's the final problem?" He asked her. "I did tell you both but did you listen?" Moriarty watched Sherlock closely.

"How hard do you find it, having to say "I don't know"?" Moriarty finally asked after realizing that Sherlock wasn't going to answer.

"I dunno." Sherlock sarcastically spoke back.

"Oh, that's clever; that's very clever; _awfully_ clever," Moriarty spoke before turning to Céline again. "Speaking of clever, did he tell you yet?"

"Tell me what?" Céline asked her tone still confident.

"Why I broke into all those places and never took anything," Moriarty replied.

"I didn't tell her," Sherlock replied.

"But you understand," Moriarty smirked. Before Sherlock could reply Céline cut in.

"I understand. You don't need to take anything. From anywhere or anyone. Nothing in any place, the Bank of England, the Tower of London or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of a key that could get you into all three." Céline suddenly spoke up. Moriarty watched her, his eyes were sparkling. Sherlock also watched her in surprise.

"I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now they're all mine. No such thing as secrecy I _own_ secrecy. Nuclear codes, I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world with locked rooms, the man with the key is king; and honey, you should _see_ me in a crown." Moriarty smugly replied to her.

"You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you can do." Sherlock suddenly realized. Céline looked from Sherlock to Moriarty. Moriarty's eyes were fixed on Sherlock again.

"And you were helping. Big client list, rogue governments, intelligence communities, terrorist cells. They all want me. Suddenly, I'm Mr. Sex." Moriarty smirked, going back to the apple.

"If you could break any bank, what do you care about the highest bidder?" Céline snapped.

"I don't. I just like to watch them all competing. "Daddy lov _es_ me the best!" Aren't ordinary people adorable?" Moriarty chuckled to himself "Well, you know, you are one." Moriarty replied, sending Céline a cold look. He turned to Sherlock. "I should get myself a live-in one too. One who will get on their knees whenever I ask…" Moriarty asked him. Céline felt her face flush and burn with embarrassment.

"What is this all for?" Sherlock snapped. Moriarty smiled in amusement. He loved how aggravated Sherlock got when it came to Céline.

"I want to solve the problem, our problem; the final problem…It's gonna start very soon, Sherlock, the fall." Moriarty replied. "But don't be scared. Falling's just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination."

"I never liked riddles," Sherlock spoke. Moriarty set his apple down and stood, putting his jacket back on.

"Learn to. Because I owe you a fall…" Moriarty replied before leaving. Sherlock and Céline sat in silence for a long moment before Céline picked up the apple. I-O-U was carved into it.


	42. The Reichenbach Fall 7

_Two Months Later_

Mycroft was sitting in his office, his gaze was fixed outside. He looked at his phone and then back up. He couldn't decide. His phone was open to his text conversations with Céline. Mycroft looked back at it and finally typed it out.

 _Are you doing ok?_

Mycroft had been frequently checking on her. He was afraid he might expose himself but at the same time he was more afraid that something would happen to her. Especially since Moriarty had been free for two months. A knock raised at the door after the message had been sent.

"Come in." Mycroft called. His assistant came in.

"Watson is here." She spoke. Mycroft stood and adjusted his tie, putting his phone in his pocket. "He upset the club."

"Good." Mycroft curtly spoke before stepping out. A few minutes later he was in a small office talking with Watson. He poured him a drink.

"Tradition, John. Our traditions define us." Mycroft slightly scolded, referring to Watson barging into The Diogenes Club.

"So total silence is traditional, is it? You can't even say, 'Pass the sugar.'" Watson scoffed, taking the drink.

"Three-quarters of the diplomatic service and half the government front bench all sharing one tea trolley. It's for the best, believe me." Mycroft explained. His phone beeped and he quickly took it out of his pocket to check. It was Céline. Watson perked an eyebrow at this uncharacteristic action.

 _The U.S. ambassador's children are missing. How are you?_

Mycroft stared at the message for a moment, thinking of how to respond. Momentarily forgetting that Watson was in the room.

"Important message?" Watson curiously asked. Mycroft snapped back to reality at the question and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

"You can say that." Mycroft vaguely replied. Watson nodded, unconvinced, but he dropped the questioning when a magazine caught his eye. It was a copy of The Sun, the headline read "Sherlock: The Shocking Truth".

"You read this stuff?" Watson scoffed. Mycroft sat down across from Watson and shrugged.

"Caught my eye." Mycroft responded. "Saturday, they're doing a big exposé. Watson read the article for a moment and rolled his eyes.

 _"_ I'd love to know where she got her information." Watson snapped, referring to the author of the hit piece on Sherlock.

"Someone called Brook. Recognise the name?" Mycroft asked.

"School friend, maybe?" Watson suggested. Mycroft chucked to himself.

"Of Sherlock's…but alas, that's not why I asked you here." Mycroft spoke. He grabbed a folder from the table beside his chair and passed Watson a photography from it.

"Who's that?" Watson asked. Mycroft kept his gaze on the photo.

"Never seen his face before?" Mycroft replied. Watson's face curled up in confusion. "He's taken a flat in Baker Street, two doors down from you."

"I was thinking of doing a drinks thing for the neighbours…." Watson began, his tone sarcastic.

"Not sure you'll want to. Sulejmani. Albanian hit squad. Expertly-trained killer living less than twenty feet from your front door." Mycroft explained.

"What's it got to do with me?" Watson asked. Mycroft didn't respond, he just took out two more photos.

"Dyachenko, Ludmila." Mycroft spoke. "Russian killer. She's taken the flat opposite." As Mycroft continued to speak he removed more photos. "In fact, four top international assassins relocate to within spitting distance of 221b. Anything you care to share with me?" Mycroft explained.

"I'm moving," Watson replied again, irritated.

"It's not hard to guess the common denominator, is it?" Moriarty spoke.

"You think this is Moriarty?" Watson asked.

"Céline told me, he promised Sherlock he'd come back." Mycroft answered. Watson rolled his eyes and stood.

"Why don't you talk to Sherlock if you're so concerned about him?" Watson snapped.

"We both know what's coming, John." Mycroft snapped.

 _"_ Moriarty is obsessed. He's sworn to destroy his only rival. I don't want Céline caught in the crossfire." Mycroft admitted. Watson frowned and left without replying.

* * *

Back at 221b Baker Street. Céline and Lestrade were speaking with Sherlock. That morning the children of the ambassador to the U.S. had gone missing. Watson entered wile they were speaking with Sherlock.

"What's going on?" Watson asked. Sherlock and Céline were sitting at the desk. Sherlock was on the computer.

"Kidnapping, the children of Rufus Bruhl, the ambassador to the U.S. Both his children." Céline explained. Lestrade passed Watson photographs. Watson studied them and Céline went back into the explanation of the information they had so far.

"They were at St Aldate's a posh boarding place down in Surrey. The school broke up, all the other boarders went home just a few kids remained, including them and they vanished. The ambassador asked for you." Céline explained to Sherlock.

"The Reichenbach Hero." Lestrade scoffed under his breath, jealously watching Sherlock and Céline. Sherlock took Céline's hand and led her to the door. Watson and Lestrade exchanged a glance. "Isn't it great to be working with a celebrity?" Lestrade sarcastically quipped as they took off for the crime scene.


	43. The Reichenbach Fall 8

Lestrade drove Watson and himself to the crime scene. Céline and Sherlock followed in a cab. It slightly annoyed Lestrade.

"How does she put up with him?" Lestrade asked, looking in the rear view at the cab following behind them. Watson watched him and shrugged.

"I guess opposites attract?" Watson suggested. When they got to the crime scene an older woman was speaking with a fellow officer. She was sniffling and crying. Sherlock helped Céline out of the car and took notice of the woman right away.

"Céline, who is she?" Sherlock asked.

"Miss. Mackenzie, the House Mistress." Céline began. Sherlock nodded and hurried over to her. Céline quickly followed.

"Miss. Mackenzie, you're in charge of pupil welfare, yet you left this place wide open last night. What are you, an idiot, a drunk or a criminal?" Sherlock shouted at the top of his lungs, grabbing her shirt front. "Now quickly, tell me!" Céline turned bright red.

"All the doors and windows were properly bolted. No-one, not even me, went into their room last night. You have to believe me!" The woman cried. Céline was about to scold Sherlock but he quickly changed his demeanor and smiled warmly, patting her shoulder.

"I believe you. I just wanted you to speak quickly." He softly spoke at her before heading toward the house. The woman collapsed into sobs and the police officer went back to tending for her. Céline ran after Sherlock. When they got inside she smacked his arm but before she could speak Sherlock got close.

"I like it when you punish me." Sherlock softly spoke, winking at her in reply, amused. Céline turned red.

"You behave." Céline scolded. Sherlock leaned over and kissed her cheek. They went upstairs to begin looking around the dormitories and Watson and Lestrade joined them. They were in the girl's room.

"Six grand a term, you'd expect them to keep the kids safe for you. You said the other kids had all left on their holidays?" Watson spoke. Lestrade answered. Sherlock was looking under the bed. Céline was looking through a toy box.

"They were the only two sleeping on this floor. Absolutely no sign of a break-in. The intruder must have been hidden inside some place." Lestrade suggested. Céline found a large hardback copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales. Céline felt a chill down her spine, Moriarty's voice rang through her ears.

 _"_ _Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain."_

"Show me where the brother slept." Sherlock asked Lestrade. Céline set the book down in the trunk and followed the men down the hall. The bed is facing the door. Sherlock closed the door and studied where the bed was.

"The boy sleeps there every night, gazing at the only light source outside in the corridor. He'd recognise every shape, every outline, the silhouette of everyone who came to the door." Sherlock explained. "So someone approaches the door who he doesn't recognise, an intruder. Maybe he can even see the outline of a weapon…" Sherlock stepped outside to show his shadow. Céline looked around and found a collection of spy books, she flipped through them and found a page on invisible ink that was dogeared in the top corner. "What would he do in the precious few seconds before they came into the room? How would he use them if not to cry out? This little boy; this particular little boy…" Sherlock spoke. Looking around on the other side of the bed.

"Sherlock." Céline spoke. Sherlock immediently turned his attention to her and she showed him the page that was dogeared. "Lestrade, get Anderson." Céline spoke.

* * *

A little while later Sherlock was going through the room with an ultraviolet light.

 _"_ _Help Us"_ was written on the walls.

"Not much use. Doesn't lead us to the kidnapper." Anderson observed from the door.

"Brilliant, Anderson." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Really?" Anderson spoke, a bit taken aback.

"Yes. Brilliant impression of an idiot." Sherlock snapped, aiming the ultraviolet light onto the floor. "He made a trail for us." Sherlock explained. They went out into the hall and followed the footsteps.

"The boy was made to walk ahead of them." Sherlock explained. "The girl was pulled beside him, dragged sideways. He had his left arm cradled about her neck."

"That's the end of it. We don't know _where_ they went from here." Anderson snapped as they got to the end of the hallway.

"You're right, Anderson, nothing…except his shoe size, his height, his gait, his walking pace." Sherlock snapped. Anderson scoffed and returned to the room with Lestrade and Céline. Sherlock knelt down and took out some tools, placing a piece of the floor into the dish.

* * *

When they were finished at the crime scene Céline went ahead of Sherlock to get a lab at the hospital. Molly frowned when she came in.

"What is it?" Molly asked.

"Can we please use…" Céline began, before she could finish Molly passed her the lab key and pushed past her.

"I've got a lunch date, but I'll be back soon." Molly spoke. Céline felt bad but thanked her and went upstairs. Sherlock joined her a few minutes later. Céline heard him come in, but her back was to the door. Sherlock hugged her from behind when he got into the lab.

"We're going to get him. Thank you for getting the lab." Sherlock spoke. He turned Céline toward him in the chair and kissed her deeply. A little while later Sherlock and Céline were testing the substance in the dish.

"The oil in the kidnapper's footprint, it'll lead us to Moriarty." Sherlock spoke to Céline. "All the chemical traces on his shoe have been preserved. The sole of the shoe is like a passport. If we're lucky we can see everything that he's been up to…." Sherlock spoke. Céline stood and was helping him across the table. Molly returned about a half an hour later. Céline perked up and removed her gloves.

"Can you help him? He's testing substances." Céline asked in a whisper. Molly nodded.

"Yes…" She hesitantly spoke, keeping her voice low too, putting on a lab coat. Céline put her trench coat and went to leave. Molly grabbed her arm before she left after noticing that Sherlock's eyes sadly followed Céline to the door. "Shouldn't you tell him you're going?" Molly asked, in a whisper again. Céline looked at him. Sherlock had gone back to the microscope.

"No, I don't want to break his concentration." Céline softly replied before leaving. When she had left Sherlock fully looked up from his work.

"Where did she go?" Sherlock sadly asked.

"Back to Scotland Yard." Molly responded. Sherlock nodded and went back to his work. After about an hour Sherlock had finished most of the analysis. The sample contained chalk, asphalt, brick dust, vegetation, and one unnamed substance.

"What did you mean by 'I owe you'." Molly asked.

"What?" Sherlock asked. Molly watched him for a moment.

"You said, 'I owe you.' You were muttering it while you were working." Molly explained. Sherlock frowned. Before he could speak Molly continued.

"You're a bit like my dad. He's dead…" Molly explained.

"Molly, please don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not your area." Sherlock cringed, not sure where she was going with the observation. Molly cut him off.

"When he was…dying, he was always cheerful, he was lovely, except when he thought people would leave him. I was with him once, when my sisters left after a visit. He looked sad….You look sad."

"Molly." Sherlock sigh.

"When she leaves you look so sad. I've never seen you like that. I knew you liked her sitting with you, and being near you. But I've never seen you watch her leave." Molly spoke. Sherlock fully turned his attention to Molly. "And don't just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think someone won't come back."

"I know she'll come back." Sherlock softly spoke.

"What I'm trying to say is that, if there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, you can have me _._ No, I just mean ... I mean if there's anything you need…if anything happens and she can't come back. You have me." Molly explained before Sherlock could say anything she turned t leave. "I'm just gonna go and get some crisps." As Molly left, Watson entered.

"Sherlock. I meant to give this to you. It was on our doorstep." Watson spoke, Sherlock frowned and took it from him, opening the envelope. A bunch of breadcrumbs fell out of the bag.

"Breadcrumbs…" Sherlock frowned.

"Uh-huh. It was there when I got back." Watson explained. Sherlock texted Céline.

 _Did you find anything fairy tale related at the crime scene?_

"A little trace of breadcrumbs…" Sherlock frowned, his phone beeped, Céline had texted back.

 _Yes, a Grimms Fairy Tale Book. It had Hansel and Gretel on the cover._

Sherlock's eyes grew wide with realization.

"Two children led into the forest by a wicked father, they follow a little trail of breadcrumbs."

"What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?" Watson asked.

"The sort that likes to boast; the sort that thinks it's all a game. He sat in our flat and he said these exact words to Céline and I…all fairytales need a good old-fashioned villain. The fifth substance, it's part of the tale. The witch's house." Sherlock stood and prepared to leave.

"What?" Watson asked as the phone rang.

"PGPR! It's used in making chocolate." Sherlock spoke. Sherlock's phone began to ring. It was Céline. He quickly answered the phone.

"Come to Scotland Yard. We need to hurry. We just got a fax." Céline explained. " It says 'hurry up they're dying.'" Sherlock thought for a moment.

"Céline, I need a place where chalk, asphalt, brick dust and vegetation cross. Something that has to do with a sweet factory." Sherlock explained as he and Watson went downstairs.

"Let me think…" Céline frowned, pacing in the conference room. Lestrade watched her from his office. She walked over to the wall where there was a London map. Se studied it. "Umm…."

Sherlock hailed a taxi and got in with Watson.

"Building site. Bricks from the 1950s." Sherlock suggested.

"Addlestone?" Céline suggested. A smile spread across Sherlock's face.

"Céline, you're a genius. That has to be it. Meet me there with a search team." Sherlock spoke, he went to hang up but he paused for a moment. "I love you." Sherlock softly spoke. Watson giggled a bit and Sherlock sent him a look. He hung up the phone. "Driver, could you take us to Addlestone?"

* * *

Céline met Sherlock there with a search team. Lestrade joined her, he was leading the search. After being breifed and searching for a little while, Céline was in a corner of the factory alone with a flashlight. Sherlock was looking around closer to Lestrade, he found a collection of candy wrappers and a candle in the middle of them. He studied the wick.

"They're still here!" Sherlock shouted. Céline heard him from the other side of the factory and his voice echoed around the walls. Suddenly, she heard wheezing coming from a crawl space.

"Hello?" Céline softly spoke. Back where Sherlock was he studied the wrappers and studied them. He sniffed one and grimaced before his face fell. Lestrade joined him.

"What is it?" Lestrade asked.

 _"_ Mercury." Sherlock frowned, in a panic. "The papers, they're painted with mercury. Lethal. The more of the stuff they ate…" Sherlock explained.

"It was killing them…" Watson observed,

"But it's not enough to kill them on its own. Taken in large enough quantities, eventually it would kill them. He didn't need to be there for the execution. Murder by remote control. He could be a thousand miles hungrier they got, the more they ate, the faster they died." Sherlock observed.

"OVER HERE!" Céline shouted. She found the children leaning against a large beam underneath a little crawlspace. The little girl was awake, her brother was leaning against her asleep.

"Help us." The little girl softly spoke. Céline knelt down and picked up the little boy. She held out her hand to the little girl and she took it, leaning into Céline for support. Sherlock was the first to get to Céline. She passed Sherlock the unconscious boy so she could pick up the little girl. Once the girl got into Céline's arms she collapsed and fainted.

* * *

Sherlock was pacing outside of a questioning room. He was waiting for Céline. Sally watched him from her desk with a glare. Céline was inside the room with Lestrade and the little girl. Céline sat with her and Lestrade went out to get Sherlock. The little girl clung tightly to Céline's hand, her gaze was fixed on the table. Sherlock and Watson walked in. Before Sherlock could sit down the little girl took a glance at Sherlock and began to scream at the top of her lungs. She pointed at him, screaming. Céline stood and picked the little girl up into her arms. The girl hid her face in Céline's neck, still screaming.

"Sherlock get out!" Céline snapped and Sherlock quickly followed her order. When he had left the little girl began to cry.

"Is he gone?" She asked. Céline nodded.

"Yes." She replied, confused, then angry. She thought about Moriarty as she comforted the little girl.

 _I owe you a fall._

He had to have been behind this.

* * *

Sherlock was waiting in the conference room. He was shaken up. Sally and Lestrade were sitting in the conference room with Sherlock and Watson. Céline entered.

"She's asleep." Céline explained when she entered. She quickly went to Sherlock and set a hand on his arm. They exchanged a look and Sherlock felt a bit better. Lestrade watched them with disdain.

"She's really traumatised. Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper." Céline spoke.

"So what's she said?" Watson asked Céline.

"She asked me if he was gone. Then asked me to stay with her until she went to bed so the monster wouldn't get her again." Céline replied.

"The boy?" Sally asked.

"Still in intensive care." Céline replied, sighing and rubbing her eyes. Sherlock was still starting out the window.

"Well, don't let it get to you. I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room! In fact, so do most people." Lestrade quipped at Sherlock before gesturing to Sally and Watson. "Come on." They left the room. Sherlock and Watson went downstairs to catch a cab. But Sherlock decided to kick Watson out of his cab so he could be alone.

* * *

When Sherlock and Watson left, Céline sat at her desk for a long moment and took a breath before going to check on the little girl again. Sally wandered back into the conference room and scattered all of the evidence from the case out on the table. Lestrade noticed and went in to check on Sally.

"Problem?" Lestrade asked.

 _"_ The footprint. It's all he has. A footprint." Sally observed. Lestrade shrugged.

"Yeah, well, you know what he's like, CSI Baker Street." Lestrade joked. Sally glared at him. Céline came back into the office and saw them both whispering. She frowned. She knew what Sally was doing, she quietly listened as she approached the office.

"Well, our boys couldn't have done it." Sally snapped.

"Well, that's why we need him. He's better." Lestrade offered.

"That's one explanation." Sally spoke.

"And what's the other?" Céline asked. Sally and Lestrade jumped and turned toward her. Sally crossed her arms.

"This girl screams her head off when she sees him, a man she has never seen before…unless she had seen him before." Sally snapped at Céline.

"There is no way she has seen him before Sally." Céline replied.

"How can you be so sure?" Sally asked.

"What are you trying to prove?" Céline snapped. Sally glared at her for a moment. "What's your point?" Céline felt her heart begin to beat faster and faster. She was angry.

"You know what my point is. You just don't want to think about it." Sally snapped at her, raising her voice.

"No, Sally. I don't know what your point is." Céline simply snapped back. Refusing to take her bait. Céline knew this is what Moriarty wanted and she wouldn't stand for it. This made Sally angry. "Spell it out for me?"

"You know my point!" Sally yelled at Céline. Céline looked to Lestrade but he avoided her eyes. He hated watching her defend him. His jealousy began talking.

"We should entertain it…the possibility that he is involved." Lestrade spoke to the room. Without a second thought Céline removed her badge and threw it onto the table, turning on her heels and leaving. Lestrade felt his heart skip a beat and he stood to pursue her.

"Céline! Céline, wait!" He shouted. Sally picked up the badge and rolled her eyes. Lestrade caught up with Céline as she got into the elevator. "Céline this is ridiculous. You can't do this."

"Watch me." Céline snapped. Lestrade forced himself into the elevator.

"Céline, you can't throw your career away for him." Lestrade begged. Céline hit the button for the bottom floor and the elevator began going down.

"I'm not standing by this." Céline snapped. "I won't do it. You know it's not true and I don't know why you're going through with this." Before Lestrade could reply the elevator door opened to the first floor and Céline pushed past him. Lestrade followed.

"Céline, what if he's responsible. What then?" Céline ignored him and shook her head. Lestrade was getting more upset when she started to ignore him. "It's like he has you under a spell." Lestrade shouted at her as they both left the building. Céline stopped dead in her tracks and turned around.

"Under a spell?" Céline snapped at him, taking a step toward him, starting to shout. "Under a spell!? Is that all you think I am? A woman who's easily tricked. He's not involved, you know he's not involved Greg. This is a waste of time and I will not use my time to follow a false lead."

"Well what if he is!? You never answered me! What then? Who will you turn to then?" Lestrade shouted back at her. Sally had followed them out but Céline and Lestrade hadn't noticed.

"What is this really about Greg?" Céline shouted back. Lestrade wouldn't look at her. He stuck his hands into his pockets. "Is this because I chose him over you?" Céline finally asked. Sally frowned, her face turned red.

"He doesn't deserve you, Céline and I don't want you to realize that too late." Lestrade finally admitted. Céline watched him with a disgusted look.

"I'm not coming back." She snapped before hailing a cab and leaving. Lestrade stood still and watched her go before cursing to himself he turned and saw Sally standing there. His face went red.

"How much did you hear?" Lestrade asked. Sally crossed her arms.

"What did she mean, she chose him over you?" Sally asked, betrayal on her face. She couldn't believe that Lestrade would have an affair with Céline. Lestrade didn't respond, he just pushed past her but before he went back inside, he spoke.

"Let's go to the Superintendent." Lestrade snapped.


	44. The Reichenbach Fall 9

Céline got into a taxi but unbeknownst to her, it had been planted by Mycroft to pick her up. She got in and asked to be taken to 221b Baker Street. The driver nodded but instead started a route to Mycroft's house. Céline heard her phone ding and she looked down, not noticing the change en route. It was a video from an unlisted number. Céline curiously clicked play. After a moment of the screen being black Jim Moriarty popped up on the screen. There was a sky blue wall with clouds and a sun painted on it. Céline felt her heartbeat quicken.

"Hullo. Are you ready for the story? This is the story of Sir Boast-a-lot." Jim began. Céline didn't know but Sherlock had seen the same video in his taxi about an hour earlier. "Sir Boast-a-lot was the bravest and cleverest knight at the Round Table, but soon the other knights began to grow tired of his stories about how brave he was and how many dragons he'd slain…" As Moriarty spoke the clouds got darker and darker. "And soon they began to wonder. Are Sir Boast-a-lot's stories even true? Oh, no…and then even the King began to wonder…" Moriarty continued. Céline felt sick as he continued. Moriarty had blocked her phone again. Sherlock had been calling her to no avail and she had no idea. Moriarty continued.

"But that wasn't the end of Sir Boast-a-lot's problem. No. That wasn't the final problem." Moriarty finished before the phone shut off. Céline cursed and the taxi cab halted. She peeked out the window.

"I'm sorry, I don't think this is the right place," Céline spoke. The cab driver didn't speak and the door opened to reveal Mycroft.

* * *

Back at Scotland Yard Greg, Sally, and Anderson were sitting awkwardly in the Chief Superintendent office. A large argument between the three had broken out about Lestrade's affair with Céline and the tension in the room was thick as the Superintendent watched them.

"I thought Sherlock Holmes was some sort of private eye." The Superintendent spoke, confused as to why the three were coming to talk with him at this hour.

"He is." Greg began before trailing off. Sally was still angry and cut in aggressively.

"We…Greg, has been consulting with him, that's what he's telling you." Sally snapped. The Superintendent's jaw clenched.

"Well, we haven't used him on any proper cases, though, have we?" He asked.

"One or two…" Lestrade lied. Anderson cut in.

"More like twenty or thirty." Anderson snapped. The Superintendent's face fell.

"What!?" He snapped, straightening up behind his desk. Lestrade raised his arms.

"Look, I'm not the only senior officer who did this…" Lestrade began.

"Shut up! An amateur detective given access to all sorts of classified information, and now he's a suspect in a case!" The Superintendent snapped, red in the face.

"With all due respect…" Lestrade began again before getting cut off once more.

"You're a bloody idiot, Lestrade! Now go and fetch him in right now!" The Superintendent shouted at him. Greg nodded and stood, Anderson and Sally, following. When they were out of earshot for the office Lestrade turned to the two.

"Are you proud of yourselves?" Lestrade snapped at Anderson and Sally.

"Well, what if it's not just this case? What if he's done this to us every single time?" Anderson argued. Sally was so disgusted following the news of Céline and Lestrade's affair that she couldn't bring herself to speak to Lestrade. They left for 221b Baker Street. Lestrade's chest was pounding. He was so angry with himself, with Céline, with the situation, but most of all, with Sherlock.

* * *

"Mycroft what the hell is going on?" Céline snapped.

"Sorry Céline, I know it's a bad time," Mycroft spoke. "I think you're going to be safer here." Céline was frustrated and tried turning on her phone again to no avail.

"Moriarty is coming. I need to call him, he got my phone shut off." Céline got out and slammed the door, not wanting to argue her way out of the situation. "Let me call him." Mycroft nodded and led her inside to his office, giving her the phone. Céline dialed. The phone rang until it went to voicemail. Céline decided to call Watson and got an answer.

"Mycroft?" Watson asked when he answered, confused.

"It's Céline. I need to speak to Sherlock now." Céline spoke, her tone urgent. Watson nodded. Mycroft listened at the door. After shuffling on the phone Sherlock answered.

"Céline, they're coming to get me I haven't much time. I take it you…" Sherlock began.

"I left," Céline spoke. "I couldn't do it." At 221b Baker Street there was a loud banging downstairs. Céline heard it. "Are they there?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied. In 221b Baker Street he turned his back to the door and went over to the window, peeking out to see the police car.

"Sherlock, you need to get out of there. You can't go with them. I don't want you to be blamed for this, it's not your fault. I know. This is Moriarty." Céline spoke, beginning to panic.

"Céline, I'll have to go." Sherlock softly spoke, rubbing his eyes. He heard footsteps coming up the door.

"Have you got a warrant? Have you?" Watson shouted. Céline could only hear on the other line.

"Sherlock?" Céline asked into the phone.

"Leave it, John." It was Lestrade, he had stormed upstairs to arrest Sherlock.

"Sherlock, don't let them take you." Céline protested. In 221b Baker Street Sherlock turned to face Lestrade. Lestrade's eyes were wandering around the room, looking for Céline.

"Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping," Greg spoke. An officer who came in with Lestrade stepped toward Sherlock. "Put the phone down."

"Sherlock?" Céline asked again, her chest tightening from the stress.

"Céline, it'll be okay. Just tell me you're safe." Sherlock spoke into the phone. His eyes locked with Lestrade. Lestrade's jaw clenched.

"Drop the phone." Lestrade snapped.

"Sherlock, no. This is not ok!" Céline continued.

"Are you safe?" Sherlock asked again, more urgent, a genuine tone of concern in his voice.

"I'm with Mycroft, he won't let me leave," Céline spoke.

"Stay with him." Sherlock began, Céline started to protest but he cut her off. "I need you safe, just trust me. I love you., Céline." Sherlock spoke before hanging up the phone. Lestrade felt angry.

"Sherlock!" Céline snapped after the phone hung up. "Sherlock!?" She tossed the phone down and cursed. Standing up. "Mycroft I'm not staying here."

"As far as I'm concerned you don't have a choice." Mycroft calmly retorted, also feeling a twinge of jealousy at her love for his brother.

* * *

In 221b Baker Street, Sherlock was arrested. Greg shoved him into the police car, handcuffing him. Sally and Anderson followed behind with Watson and the Superintendent. As they drove Lestrade looked into the rearview mirror at Sherlock.

"You don't deserve her." Lestrade snapped at Sherlock under his breath. "You don't love her. You don't love anything but yourself." Before Sherlock could respond he heard a commotion. Another car had pulled up and the Chief Superintendent got out. Sally approached him, Watson in tow to protest.

"Got our man Donovan?" He asked. Watson watched from beside Sally, waiting for his moment to butt in.

"Yes, sir." She answered. The Superintendent looks over at Sherlock.

"Looked a bit of a _weirdo_ , if you ask me. Often are, these vigilante types." The Superintendent spoke. Watson felt his blood boil and the Superintendent noticed.

"What are you looking at?" The Superintendant snapped and before anyone could stop it, Watson had attacked the Chief Superintendent and was being arrested beside Sherlock.

 _"_ Joining me?" Sherlock asked as Watson was slammed into the car beside him.

"Yeah. Apparently it's against the law to chin the Chief Superintendent." Watson replied as they were being searched. One of the officers unlocked one of the cuffs on Sherlock's hand in order to chain Watson to him as the two men spoke.

 _"_ Hmm. Bit awkward, this." Sherlock spoke.

"No-one left to bail us with Céline gone," Watson observed.

"I was thinking more about our imminent and daring escape," Sherlock suggested. Watson and Sherlock exchanged and glance and in a blink of an eye Sherlock grabbed an officer's gun and grabbed Watson, dragging him along with him, the barrel pointed into his head.

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees?" Sherlock shouted. When no-one reacted Sherlock raised the gun and shot it into the air. "Now!"

"Do as he says!" Lestrade snapped, everyone began to kneel. Watson and Sherlock moved back.

"My hostage!" Sherlock shouted, pointing the gun back to Watson's head, the two continue backing away until they turn the corner and take off running. Sherlock ragging Watson behind him. In the distance, the two men could hear the Chief Superintendent.

"Get after him, Lestrade!"


	45. The Reichenbach Fall 10

Sherlock and Watson were waiting outside Kitty's apartment. Sherlock reasoned that she may be useful to break an opposing story. Watson was beside him, still handcuffed to him. A car pulled up and Sherlock perked up from their hiding spot.

"That's her," Sherlock spoke, pulling Watson along and sneaking behind her as she unlocked and opened her front door. "Too late to go on the record?" Sherlock spoke as he walked up. Kitty turned and jumped before she could say anything Sherlock stepped into the house Watson in tow. A few minutes later Kitty was sitting and watching the men. Sherlock had gotten a pin from her and was using it to pick the lock.

"Congratulations. The truth about Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock spoke as he finished picking the lock and pulled his hand free from the cuffs. "The scoop that everybody wanted and you got." Kitty frowned and rolled her eyes.

"I gave you your opportunity. I wanted to be on your side, remember? You turned me down…" Kitty began, pouting before Sherlock cut in.

"And then, behold, someone turns up and spills all the beans. How utterly convenient. Who is Brook?" Sherlock snapped suddenly. Kitty crossed her arms and turned her head away. "Oh, come on, Kitty. No-one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone. There are all those furtive little meetings in cafés; those sessions in the hotel room where he gabbled into your dictaphone. How do you know that you can trust him? A man turns up with the Holy Grail in his pockets. What were his credentials?" Sherlock snapped again, a noise came from the door and Watson and Sherlock both turned their attention to the door. Moriarty stumbled in. He looked disheveled and different. A look of fear crossed his face.

"Darling, they didn't have any ground coffee so I just got normal…" Moriarty spoke as he walked in. When he saw Sherlock and Watson he dropped the bag and rushed to the wall, faking fear. "You said that they wouldn't find me here. You said that I'd be safe here." Kitty rushed to her feet and went over to him.

"You _are_ safe, Richard. I'm a witness. He wouldn't harm you in front of witnesses." Kitty spoke. Sherlock felt sick, he was shocked. Watson stepped in.

"So that's your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook?" Watson snapped.

"Of course he's Richard Brook. There is no Moriarty. There never has been." Kitty snapped at Watson. "Look him up. Rich Brook, an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty." Watson was at a loss for words. Sherlock stared at Moriarty. He felt rage raising up in his chest. All he could think of was how this man beat Céline and threatened her life, and how he was now cowering in the corner. Sherlock bit his cheek until he tasted blood to hold himself back.

"Doctor Watson, I know you're a good man," Moriarty spoke, watching Watson. "Please, don't hurt me." Watson snapped back at him.

"No, you are Moriarty! He's Moriarty! We've met, remember? You were gonna blow me up! You kidnapped and beat Céline you monster." Watson shouted.

 _"_ I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He paid me. I needed the work. I'm an actor. I was out of work. I'm sorry, okay? I wish I could apologize to her too…" Moriarty began to cry. "I knew she was his lover and I didn't know why he was asking me to do such awful things to her." Sherlock's face began to turn red. His mind flashing to holding Céline and shielding her from the bomb that could have killed her. He thought about the pills she had to take to control her PTSD episodes from what Moriarty put her through.

"Sherlock, you'd better explain because I am not getting this," Watson spoke, turning toward Sherlock.

"Oh, I'll be doing the explaining, in print. It's all here conclusive proof." Kitty passed Watson a folder before turning to Sherlock. "You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis." Sherlock's eyes were still focused on Moriarty. He wouldn't do this to Céline, he wouldn't snap right here. It took every ounce of his being to not go over and kill Moriarty.

"Invented him?" Watson snapped. "Oh, don't be ridiculous!" Kitty frowned and pointed at Moriarty.

"Ask him. He's right here! Just ask him. Tell him, Richard." Kitty spoke. Watson cut her off.

"Look, for God's sake, this man was on trial!" Watson shouted.

"Yes." Kitty began before turning to Sherlock again. "…and you paid him; paid him to take the rap. Promised you'd rig the jury. Not exactly a West End role, but I'll bet the money was good. But not so good he didn't want to sell his story." Kitty spoke.

"I _am_ sorry. I _am_. I _am_ sorry." Moriarty spoke. Sherlock's eyes were still locked on. His mouth tasted like blood and he was still getting angrier and angrier.

"So this is the story that you're gonna publish. The big conclusion of it all, Moriarty's an actor?" Watson snapped in disbelief.

"He knows I am. I have proof. I have proof. Show him, Kitty! Show him something! I'm on TV. I'm on kids' TV. I'm The Storyteller. Just tell him. It's all coming out now. It's all over. Just tell them. Just tell them. Tell him!" Moriarty frantically snapped. "It's all over now…" Sherlock finally couldn't take it anymore and stormed toward Moriarty. He turned and ran up the stairs toward him.

"Don't you touch me! Don't you lay a finger on me!" Moriarty screamed in fear. Sherlock was completely blind with rage.

"Stop it. Stop it now!" Sherlock shouted back in pursuit.

* * *

Céline paced around Mycroft's office. Mycroft was sitting and reading the paper.

"How long do I have to stay here?" Céline snapped.

"Until I say you can leave," Mycroft spoke, not looking up from the paper. Céline frowned and sat down in a chair across from his desk.

"Mycroft. I have to help him." Céline protested. Mycroft sighed.

"Céline, he doesn't need help right now. He's beyond helping and I won't have your hurt in the crossfire." Mycroft snapped, looking up from the paper.

"Why does my safety matter so much to you?" Céline snapped. Mycroft was taken aback by the question and just went back to his paper. "Mycroft, answer me." Mycroft looked up at her and met her eyes. They stared at each other for a moment and suddenly Céline understood. She was caught off guard. Mycroft panicked at her face when she realized and began to say something. Before he could someone knocked. Mycroft thickly swallowed and set down the paper.

"Come in." Mycroft snapped. He was frustrated with himself. His assistant came in.

"It's John." She spoke. Mycroft stood and went to the entrance of the room. Céline was still confused and surprised.

"Stay here," Mycroft spoke to Céline before leaving. Céline felt tears of frustration swell in her eyes. She looked at her phone, there was one new message from Sherlock.

 _Will call soon. I love you._

* * *

Sherlock and Watson had separated ways after losing Moriarty. Watson was sitting in an armchair with Kitty's article waiting for Mycroft. As he approached Watson began to speak.

 _"_ She has _really_ done her homework, Miss. Riley, things that only someone close to Sherlock could know." Watson observed. "Have you _seen_ your brother's address book lately? Three names: yours, mine and of course Céline's. And Moriarty didn't get this stuff from Céline and me."

"John…" Mycroft warned, already in a bad mood.

"So how does it work, then, your relationship? Did you go out for a coffee now and then, you and Jim?" Watson snapped. Mycroft sat down across from Watson. "Your own brother and you blabbed about his entire life to this maniac."

"Look. I never intended for this." Mycroft admitted. He thought back to when he first talked to Moriarty. It was after everything had happened with Céline. The day he picked her up from speaking to Irene for the first time.

 _Flashback: A Scandal in Belgravia 7_

 _Mycroft watched Céline go inside and sigh, rubbing his face. He hated his feelings that had popped up. He wanted to push them down but he couldn't. He looked down at his hands and thought about how a few minutes before he was holding hers as she explained the PTSD. He wondered if Sherlock was as gentle with her. Suddenly he heard his phone ring and perked up. It was a text from an unmarked number._

 _Does your brother know?_

 _M_

Watson gestured to the article. "So _this_ is what you were trying to tell me, isn't it, watch his back, because I've made a mistake."

"It was circumstances out of my control. He had…information." Mycroft tried to explain.

 _Flashback: A Scandal in Belgravia 7_

 _Mycroft stared at the phone dumbfounded. He was caught off guard. His phone beeped again._

 _How would he react? Meet me at the cafe across from Scotland Yard._

 _M_

"How did you meet him?" Watson snapped.

"People like him we know about them, we watch them. But James Moriarty the most dangerous criminal mind the world has ever seen, and in his pocket the ultimate weapon, a keycode. A few lines of computer code that could unlock _any_ door." Mycroft explained.

"And you abducted him to try and find the keycode?" Watson asked.

"Interrogated him for weeks and he wouldn't play along…I saw him one time after that. At a cafe." Mycroft explained, his head began pounding.

"Why did you meet him at a cafe?" Watson snapped.

"I needed him to keep something quiet." Mycroft snapped back.

"And in return, you had to offer him Sherlock's life story. So one big lie, Sherlock's a fraud but people _will_ swallow it because the rest of it's true." Watson spoke, disgusted. "Moriarty wanted Sherlock destroyed, right? And you have given him the perfect ammunition." Watson growled as he stood. "Where is Céline?"

"I'm not letting her go with you." Mycroft angrily snapped, standing as well. Watson was taken aback at the anger but shook his head.

"Once this is over I'm coming with Sherlock to get her," Watson spoke before turning and leaving.

* * *

Sherlock had gone to St. Bart's after texting Céline. He was waiting for Molly. This was his only hope.

"You're right," Sherlock spoke. Molly jumped and turned toward him.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked. Sherlock looked upset. He was alone.

"I'm not okay," Sherlock spoke. Molly was worried, she lost a bit of color in her face and set a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me what's wrong." Molly nervously spoke.

"Molly, I think I'm going to die," Sherlock replied.

"What do you need?" Molly asked, trying to hide her worry.

"If I wasn't everything that you think I am – everything that _I_ think I am, would you still want to help me?" Sherlock asked urgently.

"What do you need?" Molly repeated, confused.

"You." Sherlock finally replied.


	46. The Reichenbach Fall 11

I'm not ready for this chapter puddin's. :'(

* * *

Sherlock was locked onto the floor. He tossed a small rubber ball against the wall across from him. His phone was sitting beside him and open to his messages with Céline. He both desperately wanted to call her and hear her voice and knew that he couldn't. He couldn't face her with what he was about to do. A familiar set of footsteps broke his concentration.

"Got your message." It was Watson. Sherlock held the ball in one hand.

"The computer code is key to this. If we find it, we can use it, beat Moriarty at his own game." Sherlock explained. Watson frowned.

"What do you mean? Use it?" Watson asked, confused.

"He used it to create a false identity, so we can use it to break into the records and destroy Richard Brook." Sherlock explained.

"And we can bring back Jim Moriarty again." Sherlock nodded. Watson began to think. "Where could he have left the code?" As Watson thought Sherlock picked up his phone. He lingered on Céline for a moment longer before accepting what had to be done. He closed their messages and opened his conversation with Moriarty, typing out a message.

 _Come and play._

 _Bart's Hospital rooftop._

 _SH_

 _PS. Got something of yours you might want back._

* * *

Céline was getting antsy alone in Mycroft's office. She went to the door to leave but found that she had been locked in. She rubbed her eyes and sat down, checking her phone. The last message was the same.

 _Will call soon. I love you._

She typed a message.

 _You ok?_

Before sending it Céline sighed and talked herself out of it, figuring that he was busy. She sat for a few seconds before realizing how tired she was. She moved to sit in Mycroft's desk chair and laid her head on his desk, closing her eyes and nodding off.

* * *

About an hour later Sherlock was sitting and bouncing the ball again. Waiting. Watson's phone rang and he knew it was coming soon. Watson stood and answered.

"What? What happened? Is she okay?" Watson asked, fear in his voice. "Oh my God. Right, yes, I'm coming." Watson pulled on his jacket and went to Sherlock.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"Paramedics. Mrs. Hudson, she's been shot. We have to go, she's dying Sherlock." Watson explained. Sherlock shook his head.

"You go. I'm busy." Sherlock explained.

"Busy?" Watson asked, dumbfounded. "Doesn't she mean _anything_ to you? You once half-killed a man because he laid a finger on her."

"She's my landlady," Sherlock replied. Watson was at a loss for words and shook his head in disgust before storming out. Suddenly, Sherlock's phone beeped. It was a message from Moriarty.

 _I'm waiting._

M

Sherlock straightened up. Before he headed up he lingered one more time. He thought about Céline. He wanted to call her so bad, but it took every ounce of his being to not do it. He didn't want to hurt her even more than he would have to. When Sherlock made it onto the roof he winced at the daylight. Moriarty was sitting on the edge of the roof playing music. Sherlock slowly approached.

"Ah. Here we are, at last, you and me, Sherlock, and our problem the final problem." Moriarty spoke. He turned back to look at Sherlock. "No third wheel this time?" Sherlock glared at Moriarty. Moriarty turned back to his music. "Staying Alive, it's so boring, isn't it? It's just staying. All my life I've been searching for distractions. You were the best distraction and now I don't even have you. Because I've beaten you." Moriarty explained. Sherlock began to pace behind him.

"And you know what? In the end, it was easy." Moriarty continued. "It was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out _you're_ ordinary just like all of them. Like she is." Moriarty stood and walked toward Sherlock.

"Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Did I nearly get you?" Moriarty asked, a twinkle in his eye. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"What, Richard Brook?" Sherlock spoke, rolling his eyes.

"Nobody seems to get the joke, but you do," Moriarty smirked. Sherlock shrugged.

"Of course." He simply replied. "Rich Brook in German is Reichen Bach, the case that made my name." Sherlock began tapping with his fingers as Moriarty began to pace around him.

"Good. You got that too." Moriarty giggled in delight.

"Beats like digits. Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. Binary code. That's why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me, hidden inside my head a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system." Sherlock explained. Moriarty got close.

"I told all my clients: the last one to Sherlock is a sissy," Moriarty spoke, smiling wide.

"Yes, but now that it's up here, I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty." Sherlock threatened. Moriarty chuckled.

"No, no, this is too easy. This is too easy. Did she turn your brain to mush?" Moriarty snapped. "There is no key, DOOFUS!" He screamed, stopping his pacing. "Those digits are meaningless. They're utterly meaningless." Sherlock's face twisted in confusion. He was panicking, his brain was going a million miles a minute. "You don't really think a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around our ears? I'm disappointed." Moriarty continued. "I broke in through daylight robbery. All it takes is some willing participants." Moriarty shrugged. He began to laugh.

"I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness you always want everything to be clever. Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building, nice way to do it. Did you send her a note?" Moriarty darkly spoke.

"Yes, of course. My suicide." Sherlock spoke.

"Genius detective proved to be a fraud. I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairytales." Moriarty spoke, Sherlock wandered to the edge of the roof and peeked over the side as Moriarty continued. "And pretty grim ones too."

* * *

Watson got back to 221b Baker Street and found that he had been lied to and Mrs. Hudson was ok. He realized something was up and quickly caught a taxi back to St. Barts.

* * *

"I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity." Sherlock threatened turning back to Moriarty.

"Oh, just kill yourself. It's a lot less effort. Don't give me this sappy melodrama. You can't tell me that ordinary woman gave you a reason to live that was stronger than beating me." Moriarty spat into Sherlock's face. Sherlock suddenly grabbed Moriarty by the collar and threatened to push him over the edge.

"You're insane." Sherlock snapped. Moriarty watched him with an amused glance.

"You're just getting that now?" Moriarty snapped back. Sherlock pushed him back further. "Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don't."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock snapped.

"Three bullets, three gunmen, three victims. There's no stopping them now. I just wish I could be the one to put a bullet in Céline's head." Moriarty darkly spoke, Sherlock pulled him up and threw him down onto the roof.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock snapped. Moriarty watched him and slowly stood.

"John, Miss. Hudson, Céline." Moriarty began to giggle after saying the names. "Unless my people see you jump." Sherlock felt sick. "You can have me arrested; you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me, but nothing's gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die, unless…"

"Unless I kill myself and complete your story," Sherlock explained. Moriarty nodded.

"You've gotta admit that's sexier." He winked. Sherlock was thinking of Céline.

"And I die in disgrace." Sherlock continued. Moriarty nodded.

"Of _course_. That's the _point_ of this." Moriarty spoke before noticing the crowd of people that had begun to gather. "Oh, you've got an audience now. Off you pop. Your death is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. _I'm_ certainly not gonna do it." Sherlock thickly swallowed.

"Would you give me one moment, please, one moment of privacy?" Sherlock asked. Moriarty rolled his eyes.

"Of course." He permitted. Sherlock took a step off the roof and paced around for a moment before thinking up the solution to the situation.

"What is it?" Moriarty snapped. Sherlock smirked.

 _"_ _You're_ not going to do it. So the killers can be called off, then, there's a recall code or a word or a number." Sherlock observed, beginning to circle Moriarty. "I don't have to die if I've got you."

"You think you can _make_ me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?" Moriarty asked before taking a step toward Sherlock. "Sherlock, your big brother, and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to," Moriarty smirked.

"Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you, prepared to do anything, prepared to burn, prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you." Sherlock snapped.

"No. You _talk_ big. You're ordinary. You're on the side of the angels. I remember when I knew. It was when I took those photos. The way you flirted with her. How your eyes lingered on her lips before she asked you to kiss her. The way you melted into her arms. Only an ordinary person would fall for that. That's what ordinary people do." Moriarty spoke.

"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them," Sherlock growled. The two men locked eyes for a long moment.

"Sherlock, kiss me." Moriarty teased in a sing-songy voice. Sherlock began to react but before he could Moriarty spoke again. "I see. You're not ordinary. No. You're me." He began to giggle. "You're me! Thank you! Sherlock Holmes." Moriarty took his hand and began to shake it.

"Thank you. Bless you. As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends, you've got a way out. Well, good luck with that." Without a second for Sherlock to ask or process what was said Moriarty opened his mouth and pulled a gun from his jacket, shooting himself. Sherlock fell backward and stared at Moriarty's dead body for a long moment. Sherlock stood and began breathing frantically. He began to panic.

A workman was sitting with Mrs. Hudson in 221b Baker Street, they were sharing a cup of tea. He had a pistol with a silencer sitting in his toolbox beside him.

A man on a building adjacent from Saint Bart's took aim of Watson as he got out of a taxi.

Céline was still fast asleep but through the single window in Mycroft's office, a red dot from a sniper rifle appeared on her forehead.

Sherlock walked to the edge and saw Watson walking toward the hospital entrance. He took out his phone and quickly called Watson. He couldn't let Céline see him like this. Watson quickly answered.

"Hello?" Watson asked.

"John." Sherlock shakily spoke.

Hey, Sherlock, you okay?" Watson noticed the tremor in his voice and frowned.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came now," Sherlock ordered, frantic.

"No, I'm coming in," Watson replied. Sherlock shook his head.

"Just do as I ask. Please." Sherlock demanded, more frantic. Watson turned on his heels, confused, he took a few steps back.

"Where?" Watson asked as he stepped back, looking around.

"Stop there," Sherlock spoke when Watson was in the right spot. "Lookup. I'm on the rooftop." Watson turned and jumped.

"Oh, god." Watson frowned.

"I can't come down, so we'll just have to do it like this." Sherlock stuttered. Watson watched him with a look of disbelief.

"What's going on?" Watson asked.

"An apology. It's all true." Sherlock spoke. "Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."

"Why are you saying this?" Watson asked, protesting. He was confused.

"I'm a fake," Sherlock spoke. "The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly, in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes." As Sherlock spoke he choked up.

"Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?" Watson argued. Sherlock shook his head.

"Nobody could be that clever. I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. Just a magic trick." Sherlock spoke, tears beginning to roll down her face.

"No. All right, stop it now." Watson snapped, he began to walk back inside.

"No, stay _exactly_ where you are. Don't move." Sherlock shouted. Watson moved back to his spot, confused. "Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"

"Do what?" Watson snapped, frustrated and confused.

"This phone call it's my note. It's what people do, don't they, they leave a note?" Sherlock spoke.

"What are you talking about? Don't be ridiculous Sherlock. What are you thinking, what about Céline?" Watson frantically spoke. Sherlock took a long pause. He was crying now. Through his tears, he spoke.

"Tell Céline, I was a coward. I couldn't face her. She doesn't deserve a fraud." Sherlock cried. "Goodbye, John."

"No, don't!" Watson shouted, watching Sherlock. Sherlock tossed the phone aside before staring at the ground. After a moment he closed his eyes, spread his arms, and stepped off the edge.

* * *

 _Two Hours Later_

Mycroft had prepared how he was going to tell her. He opened the door to his office and saw her still fast asleep. He stood and watched her for a long moment. She looked like an angel. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"Céline?" Mycroft gently spoke. She stirred and sat up, stretching before rubbing her eyes.

"Mycroft? What time is it?" She asked before looking at him. When she saw the look on his face she was surprised. "Mycroft, what's wrong?" Mycroft opened his mouth to say something but to his surprise tears pricked up in his eyes. Céline saw this and stood to move toward him. Suddenly she felt sick.

"Where is he?" Céline asked, her eyes growing wide.

"Céline, please sit back down," Mycroft begged. Céline covered her mouth and slowly sat down. Tears began to fill her eyes and she shook her head. Knowing what news was about to be delivered. Mycroft felt tears in the back of his own throat threatening to come up again but he choked them down. He hated seeing her like this. "It's not your fault."

"How did it…" Céline began, feeling a rush of nausea before she could finish the question.

"Suicide, he jumped off Saint Bart's," Mycroft spoke. Céline felt a ringing in her ears, she suddenly got really dizzy. Mycroft saw her face go pale and her body tighten up. "Céline?" She didn't react to the words and fell out of the chair, fainting. Mycroft rushed to her and took her pulse before lifting her body into his arms and rushing out of his office, calling for medics.


	47. Between 1

Céline stumbled along the street. She was drunk. Tear tracks were visible down her face and her nose was runny. In one hand was a flask. Her vision was blurry. She took another swing from the flask. The streets around her were quiet and she sat for a moment on the curb. Tears began to welt in her eyes once more until they began to spill down her face again. In her other hand, she held the string of pearls Sherlock had gotten her last Christmas. The flask fell from her hands to the street below as she looked at the pearls and her tears turned into sobs.

* * *

Mycroft was driving around looking for Céline. She had missed Sherlock's funeral earlier that day and when he got home she was gone. She hadn't been eating or sleeping and he was afraid that she would do something reckless. He had been calling her for the last hour but she hadn't been answering. Finally, he decided to leave her a voicemail.

"Céline, please. When you get this call me back. I need to know where you are and if you're ok." Mycroft urgently spoke into the phone.

* * *

Céline sobbed for a long while on the curb. She was sitting in an alley not far from Scotland Yard. She reached into her pocket for a handkerchief and pulled one out. She also pulled out her phone and checked the time as she blew her nose. Her hands were shaking and she saw the calls from Mycroft. Before she could open the voicemail another call from Mycroft came through. She answered and brought the phone to her ear.

"Mycroft?" She softly asked, her speech slurring.

"Céline! Céline, thank goodness! Where are you?" Mycroft asked. Céline looked around and struggled to stand.

"I don't know." She finally replied after a long time, sniffling loudly after speaking.

"Céline? Are you crying?" Mycroft asked. Céline was quiet, she didn't know how to answer.

"Mycroft. Where am I?" She asked, stumbling out of the alley, leaving the flask behind where she had been sitting.

"Céline, I don't know. You need to tell me where you are. Please." Mycroft begged. The longer the call went on the more worried he was. Céline was quiet for a long moment. She was staring at the Victoria Tower Gardens that were right across from where she stood in the alley.

"Mycroft the gardens look so empty at this time of night," Céline observed, transfixed. She wandered toward the gardens.

"Céline, what garden?" Mycroft urgently spoke. He had begun tracking her phone and was waiting for a result. Céline crossed the street, staring at the trees of the park. She dropped her phone and stumbled into the park. Mycroft heard the thump and frowned. "Céline!?" Before he called for her again his phone beeped. Pinning her location, Mycroft quickly began speeding toward her location he was grateful that he was 5 minutes away. After a few minutes of stumbling around the park, Céline came to the water's edge. She stumbled to the wall that blocked parkgoers from accessing the river and stared down at the water before going over to a bench and sitting down. The pearls were still clutched tight in her hands.

"Sherlock?" Céline spoke aloud, her tone barely a whisper. "If I die too will I see you again?"

* * *

When Mycroft got to the parked and quickly got out of the car, following the directions until he came upon Céline's phone. He picked it up and cursed.

"Céline!?" He shouted, running into the park.

* * *

Céline heard her name in the distance and perked up.

"Sherlock?" She asked, looking around. She couldn't see anyone in her drunken state. Her vision was blurry and the world around her was dark. Suddenly a cold chill went down her spine. She turned and looked back at the river. "I will see you again?" She heard her name in the distance again and rubbed her eyes. She became hyper-focused on the wall and the city lights on the water. Céline began to walk toward the wall that blocked the river. She stopped at it and looked down at the water. Her gaze went to the pearls from Sherlock. A loud ringing began to prick up in her ears. As she was deciding Mycroft spotted her and began rushing toward her.

"Céline!?" He shouted before running for her. Céline began to hoist herself up on the wall but before she could throw herself over the edge Mycroft grabbed her and pulled her back. Céline screamed and the pearls fell to the ground in the struggle. "Céline are you insane!?" Mycroft shouted. Céline pushed him off in one large shove and fell to the ground. She grabbed the pearls and looked up at Mycroft. "What are you doing?" Mycroft asked, upset. Céline was shaking. She realized how reckless she was being and didn't know what to say. She opened up to explain herself but she just began to cry again Mycroft watched her for a long moment. He thickly swallowed and knelt beside her. As she cried he set his hand on her head and gently brought her head into his chest before picking her up bridal style to carry her back to the car.

"Let's go home, Céline." Mycroft softly spoke, kissing the top of her head.


	48. Between 2

Mycroft paced around his office. He had put Céline to bed a few hours before. It was close to 11 pm. Someone knocked at the door and Mycroft rubbed his eyes.

"Come in." He spoke. It was his assistant.

"It's Miss. Hudson." She explained. "She's here with Céline's things." Mycroft nodded and walked past his assistant to the door. He met Miss. Hudson.

"Hello. I collected what I could work out was hers." Miss. Hudson explained, passing Mycroft a box of clothing and random items. "Poor dearie…is she doing alright?" Mycroft shrugged and set the box on the floor beside him.

"As good as one expects her to be doing." He replied before pulling a checkbook from his pocket. "Here Miss. Hudson. I appreciate everything you have done for my brother. I'd like you to keep the flat as it is. No new tenants." Mycroft wrote her a check, it was an advance for two years of rent. When Miss. Hudson took it she gasped at the amount and nodded.

"Thank you, thank you so much." She sniffled before leaving. When she was gone Mycroft's assistant set a hand on his arm.

"Shall I take the things to her room?" She softly asked. Mycroft shook his head and picked up the box.

"You're dismissed for the night," Mycroft spoke. "I'll see you in the morning." His assistant nodded and left. Mycroft collected the box and went to Céline's bedroom. He sat the box down and wandered to her side. He sat beside her and gently brushed her hair through his fingers. He loved seeing her sleep. He thought back to the night Sherlock had killed himself. He thought about her sleeping at his desk. She always looked like an angel when she slept. For so long he didn't understand why Sherlock had fallen in love. He found it childish. And now he understood. Céline stirred and Mycroft pulled his hand away. She rubbed her eyes and looked up at him.

"Mycroft?" She sleepily asked. Mycroft turned red and stood, straightening his tie.

"I was just checking on you." He managed to speak. Céline nodded and sat up on one arm, she grimaced. "Are you ok?" She nodded and grabbed her head.

"Its the alcohol." She softly spoke. Mycroft nodded and there was a pause. "Mycroft, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." Céline explained.

"Don't worry." Mycroft softly spoke. "Just get some rest." Céline nodded and laid back down. Mycroft watched her from the door for a long moment before leaving.

* * *

The next morning Céline went to interview at a local college for a position in the criminal justice department. Mycroft had put in a good word for her and it helped to expedite the hiring process. She interviewed that day and by noon was hired as a lecturer in the criminal justice program. The job would start up a few months later, at the start of the new semester. When she arrived back at Mycroft's he was gone. There was a note on her bed that requested to meet him at a restaurant that evening. Céline set an alarm and began to go through her possessions.

* * *

That evening Mycroft arrived at the restaurant early. He was waiting for Céline. All night he couldn't sleep. His thoughts were a mess. He knew Sherlock was alive but he knew he couldn't tell her. His mind also wandered to pursuing Céline. But he knew it couldn't be. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Céline arriving and he quickly downed his wine glass.


	49. Between 3

Céline sat down across from Mycroft. Mycroft poured her some wine.

"How did it go?" He asked. Céline thanked him and took a small sip.

"They hired me. I start up this coming fall." Céline replied. Mycroft nodded. There was an uncomfortable tension in the air. Céline picked up on it but was confused at where it came from. She had begun to pick up on Mycroft's affection but it wasn't certain of it.

"In the meantime, you can stay with me," Mycroft spoke.

"Thank you, Mycroft…but, I've already been looking for somewhere else." Céline replied.

"Why?" Mycroft asked, confused.

"I don't want to take anything from you," Céline spoke. "I want to take care of myself like I always have," Céline replied. Mycroft nodded.

"If that is what you prefer, I can't stop you," Mycroft spoke, his tone was disappointed but before Céline could say anything else the waitress came over and took their order.

* * *

Sherlock was pacing, he was in a private jet on the way to his first location to begin dismantling Moriarty's empire. He had heard nothing about Céline from Mycroft and it was upsetting him. He had reached out but Mycroft had gone radio silent. He began to regret the decision to not tell her. His mind was racing. He thought about how realistic it would have been to take her along but deep down he knew it would have been impossible. Sherlock groaned and rubbed his eyes. What if Lestrade came back into her life? What if a new man took her affections? His mind was full of images of her being touched by another man, crying in the arms of another man, being taken care of by another man and Sherlock couldn't take it. He sat back down in his seat, his head pounding.

* * *

Céline and Mycroft returned home a few hours later. Before heading to bed Mycroft gently laid a hand on her arm.

"Are you doing okay?" Mycroft seriously asked. At dinner, they had just talked about the logistics of her move and her new job. They hadn't talked about Sherlock at all since Mycroft gave her the news. Even the night of her suicide attempt, they hadn't talked about it. Céline turned a bit pale.

"I try not to think about it." Céline softly spoke, her voice trembling a bit. Mycroft saw the tears in her eyes and frowned.

"I'm sorry…" Before he could continue speaking Céline hugged him.

"Thank you, Mycroft. For asking." Céline spoke. Mycroft returned the hug but after a few moments, Céline pulled away and kissed his cheek before leaving to bed. Mycroft stood there, the moment had happened so fast that he was trying to imprint it into his mind. He gently touched his cheek where she had kissed it. It was not romantic, it was more familial. But nonetheless, it made him feel more enamored than ever before.

* * *

A week later Céline moved out. She had found a small flat across from the University. She wanted a simple life, going from the University to her home and occasionally to the shop for groceries or clothes. She didn't want adventure or friends. She wanted to live her life in simple solitude. Mycroft would visit her once a week and they would play chess together. Miss. Hudson and Watson would call her once every couple of weeks and they would catch up for an hour or two. But aside from that contact with the outside world, Céline stayed alone. She was focused on teaching and her simple life.

* * *

This day was a cold and rainy day in December. It was the final day of the semester and the final papers were due in her class. Céline was at the front of the lecture hall collecting the papers from her students. That evening she had made plans to decorate her apartment for Christmas and bake. She wanted to send Mycroft, Miss. Hudson, and Watson some treats for the holiday. As she organized the final papers and slipped them into her folio she began to pack up. A final couple of students were exiting the classroom and a man lingered at a door at the top of the lecture hall. He watched her from the door. She looked well, tired but well. She had finally gained some much-needed weight, her body was no longer too thin due to stress from the PTSD. Her long hair was not in its usual ponytail but now it was down. The curls reached her lower back. Her dress was the same as it always was, mock neck dress, tights, oxford heels, and trenchcoat. What the man couldn't see was the pearl necklace from Sherlock that she wore under her mock neck dress. As she put her bag over her shoulder she turned toward the door and noticed him. Her eyes slightly widened in surprise and she opened her mouth to say something but no words came out. The man took a few steps down toward her and also tried to say something, words escaping him.


	50. Between 4

"It's been a while." Lestrade finally spoke. He was the man who had come to visit Céline. "When I found out you were teaching here I thought I'd stop by and see you in person." He scratched his head nervously as he spoke. Céline cleared her throat. That morning the papers began running stories of Sherlock's innocence. It had been a little over six months since his "death".

"Yes, today wraps up my first semester." She softly spoke, adjusting her shoulder strap. Lestrade nodded. She studied him closely. His clothes were overworn as if they were the only clothes he had been wearing for weeks. Stubble was visible on his chin and he was not wearing his wedding ring.

"What do you teach?" Lestrade asked.

"Introduction to criminal law," Céline replied. Lestrade nodded and there was a long silence between the two.

"Céline...I wanted to say..." Lestrade began before she raised her hand.

"Please don't. Don't ambush me here." Céline firmly spoke. Lestrade frowned.

"Céline, I didn't mean..." Before he could continue she pushed past him and began up the stairs of the lecture hall toward the door. Lestrade followed and grabbed her arm, turning her toward him. "Céline please, don't go, I..."

"Am I interrupting something?" It was Mycroft. Lestrade let go of Céline and put his hands in his pockets.

"I was just saying hello. I wanted to see how she was doing after leaving..." Lestrade managed to stutter. Céline was surprised to see Mycroft. He had a small bouquet of white roses in small porcelain vase for her.

"I see..." Mycroft spoke, his tone was unconvinced. Lestrade stuck his hands in his pockets and nervously looked back to Céline.

"Mycroft, I'll meet you outside in a minute," Céline spoke. Mycroft nodded and went outside.

"Please, Céline, let me see you. I need to speak with you." Lestrade begged in a hushed tone as Mycroft left the room. Céline took a slip of paper from her bag and scribbled her new phone number into it.

"Here." She passed it to Lestrade and Lestrade thanked her before quickly leaving. Céline rubbed her eyes and took a second to calm herself down before leaving to meet Mycroft.

"Happy first semester," Mycroft spoke, passing her the roses. Céline smiled.

"I had no idea you would come by. Thank you." She spoke, studying the roses.

"I wanted it to be a surprise but unfortunately I can't stay long. Business is taking me away this week. So I will have to miss our chess game." Mycroft spoke as he walked with her. They were making their way to her apartment.

"That's fine." Céline smiled. "Just make sure to come back in once piece."

"I have no doubts I will," Mycroft smirked. They began to cross the street toward her apartment. The sun had begun to set.

"You'll have to make it up to me of course." Céline teased. Mycroft blushed and it caught Céline's eye. She blushed too.

"I'll be sure to," Mycroft replied. There was a short silence. "What did Lestrade want?" Céline shrugged.

"I'm not fully certain." She replied. "I gave him my number. I'm guessing with the paper's coverage of...well... the paper's coverage of...Sherlock..."

"I see..." Mycroft trailed off. They had made it to her flat. It was on the third floor. Mycroft stayed back. "Well...I hope you have a wonderful night, Céline. It was a delight." Céline kissed Mycroft on the cheek once more.

"Thank you, Mycroft. Ring me once you get back." She smiled before going inside. When Céline when inside she set her bag down on her kitchen island. Her flat was small. There was a single room that was half a kitchen and half a front room. Then a master bedroom and bathroom toward the back of the apartment. The kitchen had an island and there was a paper sitting on it. It was the latest coverage of Sherlock. She went to her room to change before she went out. Her room was small, it had a large row of windows along the top of the walls and one large window almost the size of the wall on the far right wall, there were thick dark green curtains that kept the large window covered when Céline was sleeping and gone. She had an Oxford-style desk in the corner where she did any professorial work. Beside it was a clothing rack with all of her dresses. Her bed and bedside table were on the wall facing the door. On her bedside table was a rose-scented candle and the latest book she was reading. This month she was reading Emma by Jane Austen. Céline set the vase with the roses from Mycroft down on the bedside table, admiring them for a moment before changing into a mock neck top and pair of beige trousers. She kept her pearl necklace on.

After changing she left her apartment and walked to the shops that were six blocks away. She picked up some basic Christmas things. She picked up the ingredients for mince pies and a Bakewell tart. Then she stopped at the decor shop and got a small tree, ornaments, a white and red striped blanket, and two stockings. She took a cab home and the cab driver helped her carry her things to her apartment. Once everything was up and she was alone again she tied on an apron, put her hair back into a ponytail, and began to bake. She made the pastry for the pies and tart. Then put them both in the oven. When she finished this she put up the tree in her front room and decorated it with silver and gold ornaments and tinsel. Flour was still on her cheek and in her hair from baking. A half-hour later as the tarts cooled down she sat down with the two stockings and got a marker pen. On the first stocking, she stenciled her name on the white fur. On the second she stenciled Sherlock's name. She stared at them both for a long moment before taking them into her room and hanging them on the bedposts at the end of her bed. She sat on the floor and looked at them and suddenly a sad feeling overwhelmed her. Her eyes filled with tears and she began to cry. She remembered this time last year. She had just moved into 221b Baker Street and was helping Miss. Hudson decorate 221b Baker Street.

A little while later when she managed to stop crying she stood and grabbed her copy of Emma from her bedside table and took it into the bath with her. She started the bath and added in peppermint oil before getting into the hot water to read. She was on page 164 and her eyes focused on a particular line.

 _I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control._


	51. Between 5

It was Spring. The year anniversary of Sherlock's "death" had just passed. Céline and Mycroft we're walking back to the University. They spent all winter meeting at least once a week to play chess but now they met up every other day for at least a little bit. They had a small window on this particular day where Céline had a break between classes and Mycroft had no meetings so he came to take her to lunch. When they got to her classroom students were already sitting down and getting ready. Céline tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you for joining me." Céline sheepishly spoke, blushing a bit. Mycroft smiled and leaned in kissing her on the cheek for the first time.

"Thank you for letting me." He softly spoke. Céline felt a strange mix of emotions and watched as Mycroft turned and left. She quickly went into class and used it as a distraction.

* * *

After class, the confused emotions began to perk up in her gut again as she crossed the street and went to her flat. She got inside and shuddered, touching her cheek where Mycroft had kissed it.

When Mycroft got to his office he was quickly lost in thought. He knew Sherlock was alive but he couldn't help himself and the feelings that had continued to develop. He wanted nothing more but to go to her flat and take her into his arms. To kiss her and feel her against him. He groaned and stood, going to pour himself a drink. It was impossible, he had to remind himself that it was impossible.

Céline paced in her room. She was confused. For the first time since Sherlock's death, her mind began to wander. She was beginning to develop feelings again and it frightened her. She put on her trench coat and grabbed her phone, exiting. She had not visited Sherlock's grave and decided that she should finally do it. To settle her mind. She took a cab to the cemetery, the sun had begun going down. When she stepped out of the cab she stared at the entrance for a long moment before going in. She knew the way to Sherlock's grave. She had memorized it a year before for the moment when she knew she should visit. When she got to his gravestone she sat down in front of it.

"Hello love." She softly spoke. She was surprised at how she felt, she was at peace. Silence surrounded her. The sun continued to go down and the sky was a deep bluish purple. "Sherlock, you've been gone for a year now. I can hardly believe it. I'm here because...I feel strange." Céline let the statement hang in the air. "God, I wish you were here." She was exasperated. "Sherlock, I wish you were here so bad. I want you to hold me. I miss you so much." Tears didn't escape her eyes, she was no longer in mourning. "Sherlock I think I have feelings for someone else and I don't know what to do." Thunder erupted and Céline looked up at the sky, as the sun was setting clouds began to come in and it started raining. She jumped up and hid under the tree beside Sherlock's grave. After a moment the rain began to pick up and she called Mycroft. Mycroft answered after a moment.

"Hello? Céline?" Mycroft asked.

"I'm at Sherlock's grave. It started raining…could you…" Céline was nervous to ask, she wasn't sure if he was busy.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Mycroft softly spoke before hanging up. Céline lowered the phone and sat under the tree. The rain continued to pick up but she was shielded.

"Sherlock, what do I do?" Céline softly spoke. Her mind racing. "I wish you would just come back." She rubbed her eyes, she was suddenly tired. The rain had calmed her down to the point of dozing off but before she could Mycroft got there. She spotted him as he walked to her, he had an umbrella. When he got to her she thanked him and they began toward the car.

"What made you come by to visit?" Mycroft curiously asked. Céline blushed a bit.

"I had to work something out." Céline tried to explain. Mycroft nodded and they reached the car. He opened the door for her and she got in. He got into the drivers side and started up the car. The drive fully lulled Céline to sleep.

By the time they got to her flat the rain had stopped Mycroft parked in front of her flat complex and watched her for a moment, chuckling to himself. He knew she was a deep sleeper and carefully got out and picked her up. He carried her into her flat and unlocked it. A month before she had given him a key to her flat for emergencies. Céline faded in and out of sleep as Mycroft carried her to her room. He laid her down on the bed but before he could leave Céline grabbed his arm.

"Can you stay?" She softly asked, half-asleep.

* * *

Is more going to happen between Mycroft and Céline puddin's? You'll have to wait and see! Just two more Between chapters left until Sherlock returns! I also got a review about Céline being a damsel, and all I can say is you have to wait and see how she steps into her power, we have a whole new season of exciting things coming up! xoxo!


	52. Between 6

Hiya puddin's I combined the two shorter chapters I had planned into one! Are we ready for Season 3?

* * *

Mycroft took her hand and sat on the edge of the bed. He reasoned that it wouldn't be bad if this one time he indulged his feelings. He wrapped her in his arms and laid with her. Céline laid her head on his chest and fell back asleep.

* * *

The seasons passed and Céline and Mycroft continued tiptoeing around romance. Both were too afraid to fully initiate. Mycroft, for the first time in his life, felt conflicted. He had been keeping his knowledge of Sherlock secret. It felt strange to him every time he was tempted to make ti something more. It was guilt, an emotion he was not used to. Céline was just not certain if she was ready for another person in her life. She hadn't fully healed from what she believed to be Sherlock's death.

Soon, it was the spring again. It had been two years since Sherlock's "death". Céline was now a permanent professor at the university. She taught two classes a semester on Criminal Law. One with new students and one with senior students. She and Mycroft still saw each other weekly and she frequently talked with Miss. Hudson and Watson. On this particular spring day, Watson called her at lunch.

"Hello, John," Céline spoke into the phone. "I'm so happy to hear from you."

"Yes, sorry about the unexpected call. I was wondering what you were doing tomorrow evening?" Watson asked. He was nervous. Céline smiled. When she and Watson caught up every couple of weeks he had begun to tell her about this woman at his work he had been dating. This had to be about her.

"I'm free after class," Céline spoke. Watson let out a grateful sigh.

"Wonderful…how would you like to finally meet Mary?" Watson asked. Céline beamed.

"I would love to meet her." She replied. The next evening after her class had wrapped up she stopped by the shop to get a bottle of wine as a gift before getting a cab to the place Watson had made reservations. Watson had nervously texted her that they had arrived early and so when she got there she ducked past the host and looked for them. Watson saw her and stood, waving her over. Céline quickly went to them.

"Hello, John!" Céline smiled, hugging him and passing him the bottle. "Here is a little something for you two."

"Thank you." Watson smiled. He nervously looked from Céline to Mary and Mary stood. She was a beautiful woman and stuck out her hand for Céline to shake but Céline instead hugged her.

"I've heard so much about you. It's wonderful to finally meet you." Céline smiled.

"You as well!" Mary nervously spoke, hugging her back. They all sat afterword and the waiter came over to take their drink orders. They talked through the meal and Mary decided that she liked Céline a lot. The two women got along wonderfully. They talked a lot about the criminal justice system in Britain throughout the meal. Watson was happy that they liked each other. Toward the end of the meal, Watson excused himself to use the loo, leaving the two women alone. Céline took a sip of her wine and there was a bit of a comfortable pause.

"Thank you," Mary spoke. Céline smiled.

"For what?" Céline asked, curious. Mary shrugged.

"It's nice to see that John has such a good friend…He has a really hard time still with…well…with…" Mary began.

"With Sherlock." Céline completed her sentence knowingly. Mary nodded.

"What you two have gone through, I can't even imagine it and I'm so glad you have each other," Mary spoke. Céline smiled and nodded.

"I can understand. It's been hard to believe it's only been two years. I'm just really thankful he has you now Mary. When he started talking to me about you I could tell. He's in love. I think that's helped him heal." Céline spoke. Mary blushed.

"I'm glad. I must say, I'm in love too." Mary softly spoke. Céline smiled and giggled.

"You two are really good for each other." She spoke as Watson returned. The three talked for a little while longer before saying goodbye. After helping John and Mary hail a cab Céline watched them go for a long moment and checked the time. It was 9:30. She quickly hailed another cab and directed them to drop her off near the University. She quickly rushed to a small shop before it closed and bought a bouquet of flowers before hailing another cab to take her to the graveyard where Sherlock was buried. Céline stepped out of the cab with her bouquet and thanked the cab driver. She walked into the graveyard and made her way through. It was quiet and the air was still. She got to his grave and stood watching it for a long moment before setting the flowers down on his grave.

"I love you." Céline softly spoke, spending a few moments at Sherlock's grave before heading back toward the entrance to the graveyard.

* * *

Two months went by and Sherlock was being beaten in a prison. The guard watched from the door and the torturer placed in front of him.

"You broke in here for a reason." The torturer spoke in Serbian. He walked to the corner to grab a pipe before returning to stand in front of the man. _"_ Just tell us why and you can sleep. Remember sleep?" The man spoke. Blood poured from Sherlock's mouth. As the man drew back to hit Sherlock with the pipe he began to softly speak. The man stopped and leaned down. "What?"

"Well...what did he say?" The guard in the corner asked. It was Mycroft in disguise. The torturer stood, frustrated and turned back to the guard.

"He said that I used to work in the navy, where I had an unhappy love affair, that the electricity isn't working in my bathroom…and that my wife is sleeping with our next-door neighbor…" The torturer explained. He began to get nervous. He knelt back down as Sherlock continued to softly speak. "And…the coffin maker. If I go home now, I'll catch them at it!" The torturer stood quickly and exclaimed. "I knew it! I knew there was something going on!" He stormed out, Sherlock took deep breaths. He slumped in his chains. Mycroft stood and walked over to him, standing in front of him.

"So, my friend. Now it's just you and me...You have no idea the trouble it took to find you." Mycroft spoke. He wanted Sherlock to stay away forever but knew it couldn't happen any longer. He grabbed his hair and pulled Sherlock's head toward him. "Now listen to me. There's an underground terrorist network active in London and a massive attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother dear. Back to Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes."

In another part of the world, Céline and Watson were walking around Oxford Street looking for a ring for Mary.

"I can't believe I put it off this long." Watson nervously spoke. "I'm asking her tomorrow and I have nothing to show for it. What if I can't find anything? I…" Céline set a hand on his shoulder.

"Relax, you'll find something." She giggled. Watson nodded and rubbed his eyes.

"You're right. I don't know why I'm panicking." He sighed, they wandered into a jeweler's shop. Céline was right and after less than a half-hour in the shop Watson had picked a ring. He and Céline decided to get lunch before saying goodbye. Céline went home afterword and decided to have a night in. She hadn't heard from Mycroft all week and debated calling. She took out her phone and dialed his number but decided not to. She wanted to be alone that evening. She went to her room and grabbed her candle and copy of William Thackeray's _Vanity Fair_ and took them both to the bathroom to take a long hot bath. As she read in the bath by the candlelight she had one moment of peace. What she did not know was that the following day would bring with it news that would change her life once more.


	53. The Empty Hearse 1

Céline woke up early. It was Monday, she curled up under the covers basking in the warmth for a moment before sitting up. The time was 6 am and her class began at 8 am sharp. She stretched a bit and wandered to the blinds, pulling them open. She looked out at the gloomy morning for a bit before going to the kitchen to make herself breakfast and coffee. After eating it and going over lesson plans she took a quick shower and got ready for the day. She left the house around 7:30 am and her phone pinged.

 _I'm going to see Miss. Hudson, wish me luck._

It was a text from Watson. Céline had encouraged him to go reconnect with her before his engagement. Céline stopped after she had crossed the road to the University and replied.

 _She'll be happy to see you. It'll go great. Wishing you all luck._

* * *

Watson made it to 221b Baker Street to see Miss. Hudson. He sat nervously at the kitchen table. Miss. Hudson set down a tray. She was shaking and slamming things as she set up tea. Before she put sugar in Watson's coffee she stopped herself.

"Oh no, you don't take it, do you?" Miss. Hudson frowned, putting the sugar back. Watson smiled apologetically.

"No…" It was all he could get out.

"You forget a little thing like that." Miss. Hudson spoke, a tremor in her voice.

"Yes," Watson spoke again, he wanted to say more but he couldn't. He felt as if he would burst into tears at any moment.

"You forget lots of little things, it seems." Miss. Hudson continued. Her eyes wandered to his new mustache. "Not sure about that." She trailed off. Watson touched his mustache nervously. "Ages you…"

"Just trying it out." Watson defensively spoke.

"Well, it ages you." Miss. Hudson snapped. She was holding in her feelings. She didn't know how to say it. Watson was taken aback he stuttered to say something. "I'm not your mother. I've no right to expect it but just one phone call, John." Miss. Hudson finally broke.

"I know." Watson softly spoke.

"Just one phone call would have done. After all, we went through." Miss. Hudson snapped, tears pricking up in her eyes. Watson thickly swallowed.

"I am sorry," Watson spoke, meaning it. Miss. Hudson sigh and sat down.

"Look, I understand how difficult it was for you after…" Before she could finish Watson began talking again.

"I just let it slide, Miss. Hudson. I let it all slide. And it just got harder and harder to pick up the phone somehow. If it wasn't for Céline constantly checking in I wouldn't have spoken to anyone, ever again….D'you know what I mean?" Watson struggled to explain, Miss. Hudson set a hand on his arm and Watson put his hand over hers.

* * *

Céline finished up her first class and was walking to the coffee shop on campus when she saw it. A report at Scotland Yard. She perked up and slowed down for a moment. The headline read _Richard Brook Not Real, Creation of Jim Moriarty._ She watched the station a chill went down her back.

"Sherlock Holmes fell to his death from the top of London's Bart's Hospital. Although he left no note, friends say it's unlikely he was able to cope with…" Céline scoffed and stormed away. The hadn't asked anyone about Sherlock. She ordered her coffee with an extra shot of espresso and got back to her classroom as students began to pile in.

* * *

At Mycroft's office, Sherlock and Mycroft were talking. Sherlock had finally cleaned up and was getting dressed.

"I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock. Is that quite clear?" Mycroft snapped. Sherlock watched himself in the mirror.

"What do you think of this shirt?" He asked, studying it closely. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft snapped. Before he could say anymore Sherlock cut him off.

"I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft." Sherlock exasperatedly spoke, rolling his eyes. He was nervous, he had made the decision to go and see Watson first. Then he would have Watson help him go and see Céline.

"Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in, feel every quiver of its beating heart." Sherlock snapped at Mycroft. A woman who was sitting in with them cut in with some information.

"And what about John Watson?" Sherlock snapped as she spoke, cutting her off. Mycroft perked an eyebrow.

"John?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock nodded.

"Yes. Have you seen him?" Sherlock asked, more urgent. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Oh, yes, we meet up every Friday for fish and chips." Mycroft took out his phone, checking it for messages. "Céline told me he would be…"

"What do you mean Céline told you?" Sherlock spoke, focusing on Mycroft. Mycroft felt his brother's wandering eyes and did his best to keep things neutral.

"We play chess occasionally," Mycroft spoke cautiously. Sherlock saw the corner of his mouth turn up and frowned.

"How occasionally?" Sherlock pressed.

"Once a week." Mycroft snapped. The two men were quiet for a long moment. Sherlock's mind was racing.

"How is she?" Sherlock finally asked, his tone going soft. Mycroft relaxed a bit, his brother hadn't sensed anything to do with his feelings.

* * *

 _"_ So, why now? What changed your mind?" Miss. Hudson asked. Watson slightly smiled.

"Well, I've got some news." Watson began. Miss. Hudson gasped.

"Oh, God. Is it serious?" Miss. Hudson frowned.

"What? No, no, I'm not ill. I've, well, I'm moving on." Watson tried to explain. Miss. Hudson's face fell.

"You're emigrating." Miss. Hudson sadly spoke.

"Nope. I've, I've met someone." Watson explained. Miss. Hudson's face lit up and she clapped her hands.

 _"_ Oh, lovely!" Miss. Hudson exclaimed.

"Yeah. We're getting married, well, I'm gonna ask, anyway." Watson smiled.

* * *

"Céline is fine," Mycroft answered, keeping it short. Sherlock got too nervous thinking of Céline and seeing her again.

"I think I'll surprise John. He'll be delighted. I'll see him first." Sherlock spoke. Mycroft shrugged.

"You think so?" Mycroft spoke, a bit amused.

"I'll pop into Baker Street. Who knows, jump out of a cake." Sherlock suggested. Mycroft was surprised.

"Baker Street? He isn't there anymore." Mycroft snapped. Sherlock was surprised. "Why would he be? It's been two years. He's got on with his life."

"What life? I've been away." Sherlock frowned. He thought for a long moment. "Is Céline at…"

"No," Mycroft spoke. Sherlock furrowed his brow in frustration.

"Well…where is he going to be tonight?" Sherlock asked.

"How would I know?" Mycroft retorted.

"You always know." Sherlock snapped back, getting impatient.

"He has a dinner reservation at the Marylebone Road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion, though I prefer the 2001." Mycroft spoke. Sherlock pulled on his coat.

"I think maybe I'll just drop by," Sherlock spoke.

"You know, it is just possible that you won't be welcome." Mycroft scolded Sherlock.

"No, it isn't." Sherlock quickly spoke, not fathoming that he would not be welcome. "I'll pop in, get Watson and then I'll go and see Céline." Mycroft chuckled as Sherlock explained.

"Well…good luck with that," Mycroft spoke.


	54. The Empty Hearse 2

Sherlock walked into The Landmark Hotel, he passed a couple of waiters and began looking around for Watson.

"Sir, may I help you?" The host stepped toward him. Sherlock gave him a brief glance before noticing that he was an expectant father. A phone beep from the man's pocket reached Sherlock's ears and without missing a beat he leaned toward him. "Your wife just texted you. Possibly her contractions have started." The man quickly pulled his phone from his pocket. Sherlock turned back to the restaurant after the host had hurried out. He suddenly saw Watson and stared toward him before getting nervous and hesitating. A waitress that was on her way to a table ducked out of the way of Sherlock when he hesitated.

"Excuse me, sir." She softly spoke. Sherlock watched her for a moment and saw her bowtie. He quickly took a couple of steps to a couple sitting at a table he swiftly knocked a glass of water onto the man. When the man pulled back in shock Sherlock grabbed a napkin and patted his front, taking his bowtie and tying it on himself. Sherlock continued toward Watson, he ducked toward another man and grabbed his menu and glasses.

"Finished with that, sir? Allow me to take it for you." Sherlock spoke. When he had stepped away from the man he put the glasses on his face. Finally, he saw a woman's purse open on a table where he could reach. A black eye pencil was visible in the bag. He walked over and exchanged her menu with the one he picked up from the man and swiftly took the eye pencil and drew a small mustache on his face. After this gesture, he made it to Watson and knelt in.

"Can I help you with anything, sir?" Sherlock put on a thick French accept as he spoke. Watson didn't look up from his menu.

"Hi, yeah. I'm looking for a bottle of champagne, a good one." Watson spoke. Sherlock gestured to the menu.

"Well, these are all excellent vintages…" Sherlock began, keeping his accent.

"It's not really my area. What do you suggest?" Watson asked again.

"Well, you cannot possibly go wrong, but, f you'd like my personal recommendation this last one on the list is a favorite of mine." Sherlock pointed to the menu and Watson nodded. "It is, you might, in fact, say like a face from the past." Sherlock removed his glasses as he spoke. Watson passed him the menu and nodded.

"Great. I'll have that one, please." Watson spoke, he quickly downed the glass of red wine that was in front of him.

"It is familiar, but with the quality of surprise!" Sherlock exclaimed. Watson nodded and took out his phone.

"Well, surprise me," Watson replied. Sherlock dropped his voice and frowned, going to fetch the champagne.

"Certainly endeavoring to, sir." He scoffed under his breath. Watson had a text from Céline, it read,

 _She'll say yes. Don't worry._

Watson took a nervous breath after reading the text. He put his phone in his pocket and pulled out a red velvet box. He opened it and studied the ring he had picked up for Mary, his eyes softened and he focused on the ring, thinking of what he would say. Suddenly Mary rejoined him, sitting down across from him. Watson nervously shoved the ring into his pocket before she could see it.

 _"_ Sorry, that took so long." Mary smiled, she knew something was up with how nervous Watson was acting. "You okay?" Mary asked, Watson nervously shifted in his chair.

"Yeah, yeah. Me? Fine. I am fine." Watson smiled. Mary nodded.

"Now then, what did you want to ask me?" Mary asked. Watson watched her for a second and opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. He suddenly grabbed the bottle of wine on the table.

 _"_ More wine?" Watson asked. Mary giggled.

"No, I'm good with water, thanks," Mary replied.

"Right." Watson set the bottle down, he thought of the text Céline had sent and took a deep breath. "Mary. Listen, I know it hasn't been long, I mean, I know we haven't known each other for a long time." Watson began, stuttering through his words.

"Go on," Mary replied, endeared by his nervousness.

"Yes, I will. As you know, these last couple of years haven't been easy for me; and meeting you, meeting you has been the best thing that could have possibly happened." Watson continued, tears pricking up in the corner of his eyes.

"I agree." Mary giggled, trying to break some of his tension with some teasing.

"What?" Watson blushed.

"I agree I'm the best thing that could have happened to you," Mary spoke. Watson laughed, his face flushing a bit.

"Mary…if you'll have me, Mary, could you see your way, if you could see your way to…" Watson spoke, about to ask. Sherlock glided in his accent back and holding two champagne glasses and a bottle of champagne.

Sir, I think you'll find this vintage exceptionally to your liking. It has all the qualities of the old, with some of the colors of the new. Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers." Sherlock spoke in his crazy accent. Watson kept trying to get him to leave and Mary was giggling at the absurd situation. "…suddenly one is aware of staring into the face of an old friend." Sherlock took off his glasses. Exasperated, Watson turned toward him.

"No, look, seriously could you just…" Watson realized who he was looking at and suddenly froze. Mary quickly tensed at the change in demeanor Watson had.

"Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends, and anonymity to waiters." Sherlock spoke. He suddenly felt a little choked up. Watson just watched him. Mary looked between the two men. Watson met her gaze and she saw his eyes were filled with tears. Watson shakily stood.

"John?" Mary asked, concerned. Sherlock nervously looked at Watson. "John, what is it? What?" Mary asked again after another moment of silence. Watson punched the table.

"Well, short version…not dead." Sherlock replied to her. Sherlock was also getting nervous."A bit mean, springing it on you like that, I know. Could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defense, it was very funny." Sherlock pleaded. Watson began to breathe heavy, thoughts were racing through his head. "Okay, it's not a great defense." Mary gasped, putting it together.

"Oh no…you. You…" Mary began, at a loss for words.

"Oh yes," Sherlock replied, his gaze not leaving Watson.

"You died. You jumped off a roof." Mary observed. Sherlock shook his head. Before she could continue he cut her off.

"No. I'm quite sure. I checked. Excuse me." Sherlock dipped a napkin into Mary's water before speaking to Watson again, trying to get some reaction from him. "Does yours rub off, too?" Sherlock joked. Watson finally looked up at Sherlock.

"Do you have _any_ idea what you've done to him?" Mary snapped at Sherlock. Sherlock began to panic.

"Okay, John, I'm suddenly realizing I probably owe you some sort of an apology," Sherlock spoke. Mary stood as Watson clenched his fist and slammed it again.

"All right, just ... John? Just keep breathing." Mary spoke.

"Two years." Watson finally spoke, his tone thick with anger. "For two years, I thought…Céline and I thought…" Watson trailed off, thinking of all that he went through, thinking about Céline's suicide attempt. "Now, you let us grieve, hmm? How could you do that?" At the mention of Céline, Sherlock felt tears prick up in his eyes. Watson began to speak again but Sherlock cut him off to prevent himself from crying.

"Wait, before you do anything that you might regret, one question. Just let me ask one question." Watson watched him, his gaze full of anger. "Are you really gonna keep that?" Sherlock joked. Without a second to think or reply Watson tacked Sherlock, choking him. Mary jumped up and three nearby waiters rushed to pull Watson off of Sherlock.

* * *

Céline was wrapping up her evening class and collecting papers from all of her students. When she was the last one in the classroom she rubbed her eyes and yawned. She checked her phone and sigh. Nothing. She was waiting for Watson to update her on how the proposal went. She decided to wait before texting him for a follow up and put her phone in her bag. It had been dying and was at 3%. Céline then pulled a small notebook and opened to a page with her shopping list. She read through it as she put her bag on her shoulder and walked across the street to her apartment.

* * *

Sherlock, Mary, and Watson were sitting in a café. They had been thrown out of the restaurant and had relocated. Watson and Mary sat opposite Sherlock. Sherlock was explaining.

"I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I'd invited Moriarty onto the roof. I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible. The first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling…" Sherlock spoke before Watson cut him off.

"You know, for a genius, you can be remarkably thick." Watson snapped.

"What?" Sherlock asked, confused.

"I don't _care_ how you faked it I want to know why." Watson snapped, his tone still full of anger.

"Why? Because Moriarty had to be stopped." Sherlock snapped back. Watson didn't say anything and just stared at him, Sherlock's face fell. "I see. Yes. 'Why?' That's a little more difficult to explain…" Sherlock spoke.

"I've got all night," Watson replied. Mary watched on, worried.

"Actually, um, that was mostly Mycroft's idea," Sherlock spoke. Watson turned bright red.

"Oh, so it's your _brother's_ plan?" Watson darkly spoke. Céline had confided into Watson about the tiptoeing around romance her and Mycroft had been doing and this made Watson angrier than he already was. Watson began to fidget, angry. Before he could do anything Mary spoke up.

"Oh, he would have needed a confidant!" Mary exclaimed. Watson shot her a look. "Sorry."

 _"_ But he was the only one? The only one who knew?" Watson asked. Sherlock felt nervous all of a sudden. He looked down at the table.

"Couple of others." Watson geared up to say something in response but Sherlock continued. "It was a very elaborate plan it _had_ to be. The next of the thirteen possibilities…" Sherlock spoke. Watson didn't let him continue.

"Who else knew?" Watson snapped.

"Molly," Sherlock replied.

"Molly?" Watson snapped, disgusted.

"John," Mary spoke, laying a hand on his shoulder. Watson calmed for a moment and glared at Sherlock.

"Molly Hooper – and _some_ of my homeless network, and that's all," Sherlock spoke, trying to make it sound not that bad.

"Okay. So just your brother, and Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps." Watson spat. Sherlock shook his head.

"No! Twenty-five at most." Sherlock replied. Watson threw himself over the table at Sherlock, attacking him again.

* * *

When she got home Céline dropped her bag on the couch. She went to her bedroom and changed into work clothes. She put her hair into a low ponytail and put on a triangle bandana so that it covered her head. She then changed into brown trousers and a silk navy blue button-up. She checked her phone and decided to leave it to charge while she went to the shop. She plugged the phone into her bathroom charger before grabbing a shopping bag, her purse, her grocery list, and heading out the front door.

* * *

Sherlock, Mary, and Watson were sitting in a café. Sherlock was holding a napkin to his lower lip. It was bloody from the throttling from Watson. Sherlock watched him.

 _"_ Seriously, it's not a joke? You're really keeping this?" Sherlock asked, gesturing to the mustache. Watson rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Mary likes it." Watson spoke. Sherlock quickly looked at Mary and shrugged.

"No, she doesn't," Sherlock observed. Watson looked over at Mary and she covered her face guiltily.

"Oh! Brilliant." Watson snapped, annoyed. Mary blushed.

"I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you." Mary spoke. Watson shook his head.

"No, no, this is charming! I've really missed this!" Watson snapped. He suddenly got into Sherlock's face once more. " _One Word_ , ". That is _all_ I would have needed. One word to let me know that you were alive." Watson shouted.

"I've nearly been in contact _so_ many times, but I worried that, you know, you might say something indiscreet…," Sherlock replied.

"Oh! That's why you couldn't tell me or Céline. You know Sherlock, things have been hard for me but…Céline…she…"

"I couldn't allow either of you to let the cat out of the bag." Sherlock defensively spoke. Watson frowned.

"Oh, so this is _my_ fault?! Céline's fault?" Watson shouted again. Mary scoffed.

"Oh, god John." Mary scolded. Watson quickly snapped back.

"Why am I the only one who thinks that this is wrong – the only one reacting like a human being?! So you fake your own death and you waltz in 'ere large as bloody life but I'm not supposed to have a problem with that, no, because Sherlock Holmes thinks it's a perfectly okay thing to do!?" Watson shouted. Sherlock shouted back.

"Shut up, John! I don't want _everyone_ knowing I'm still alive!" Sherlock snapped.

"Oh, so it's still a secret, is it?" Watson snapped, disgusted and angry. Sherlock crossed his arms.

"Yes! It's still a secret. London is in danger, John. There's an imminent terrorist attack and I need your help." Sherlock spoke. Watson was taken aback. He looked from Mary to Sherlock.

"My help?" Watson thickly swallowed as he spoke it. Sherlock smirked.

"You _have_ missed this. Admit it. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins, just the two of us against the rest of the world…" Before Sherlock could finish Watson reared back and slammed his head into Sherlock's.

* * *

Céline wandered around the shop, picking up all of the things she needed on her list. She wandered one shop over after she had gotten her groceries and picked out a new candle for her bedside table and a new book to read. This time she grabbed _Murder in Mesopotamia_ by Agatha Christie.

* * *

Sherlock and Mary stood in the street. They had been kicked out once more. Watson was hailing a cab a few feet away and furiously texting. He was texting Céline.

 _Céline, I need to see you tonight please call me._

He sent the message after trying to call a couple of times to no avail. Sherlock was tending to his nose, it wasn't broken but badly bruised and bleeding. He turned to Mary.

"I don't understand. I said I'm sorry. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" Sherlock spoke, Mary rolled her eyes.

"Gosh. You don't know anything about human nature, do you?" Mary scolded. Sherlock shrugged.

"Nature? No. Human? No." Sherlock flatly responded. Before Mary could speak Watson hailed the cab. He waved at her to come over. He didn't want to see or look at Sherlock. Mary said goodbye and left toward Watson. Sherlock watched them leave and once the cab was gone he looked at his phone and fetched Céline's new address before heading over. When he got there he picked the lock and went inside. The apartment was small and clean. It was decorated well. Sherlock wandered to the kitchen island and saw her bag and folio and then he wandered into her room. She wasn't home. He sat at the desk in her bedroom, waiting for her to arrive. He rehearsed what he would say to her. He reasoned that she would be a lot nicer than John.

* * *

Céline had an armful of groceries. She was returning home and noticed that the door was unlocked. She frowned. That was what Sherlock did. She stared at the door for a long moment.

"No…you just forgot to lock it when you left," Céline whispered to herself. She went inside and set her groceries on the counter before looking around the living room, everything seemed to be in place. She took off her bandana and let her hair down. Sherlock was in her bedroom, he heard her come in and suddenly got nervous. She took a deep breath. "See? No-one is here." Céline reassured herself. She began putting the groceries away. She left her phone in the bathroom and didn't notice that Watson had been calling her on repeat for the last hour.

When she didn't come back to the bedroom right away Sherlock got more nervous. He frowned and began pacing around. Céline reached the bottom of the sack and grabbed her new book and candle. She went to her room to put it away. Sherlock hadn't heard her coming to the room and she caught him off guard. Céline stepped into the room and saw him standing there. She jumped at the intruder and after a moment she saw it was Sherlock.

"Céline…" He spoke, shocked. She stared at him, her eyes were wide. Time felt like it had stopped. She dropped the candle and book onto the ground and brought her hand to her mouth. She shook her head. Everything Sherlock had prepared to say escaped him. He just stood there mouth agape. Sherlock suddenly felt a wave of emotions, he felt tears fill his eyes.

"What…" She spoke, it was all she could say. Sherlock just stared at her like a deer in headlights. He didn't know what to say. Tears began to fill her eyes. "No…this isn't real." She spoke, shaking her head and laughing through the tears. She picked up the candle and walked over to her nightstand. She set it down. Sherlock saw her hands shaking violently. Her back was to him. She felt lightheaded and leaned against the nightstand for support.

"I'm going to turn around and you won't be there." Céline spoke. Sherlock followed her and stood right behind her.

"Turn around." He softly spoke.


	55. The Empty Hearse 3

A wave of emotions rushed through Céline in one sweep. Her stomach fell through the floor and she stared at Sherlock. Sherlock saw her face turn a sickly white color. This coupled with her shaking hands caused worry to rise in his chest.

"Céline?" Sherlock asked, not sure what to do. Céline began to laugh, it was a small chuckle, but as it escaped her lips her eyes swelled with tears. Sherlock reached out to touch her shoulder but before he could touch her she slapped him. Hard. Sherlock drew back, clutching his face and staring at her in shock. Céline began to cry.

"You…you…" She began. Sherlock's eyes were wide, he looked caught off guard, he was caught off guard. Céline covered her face and took a deep breath, shaking her head back and forth. "Get out."

"Céline, what?" Sherlock asked, hurt. Céline shook her head, not looking at him. He tried to embrace her once more, but she shoved him off of her.

"GET OUT!" Céline shouted. Sherlock's worry turned into desperation.

"Céline, please. Hear me out! Listen to me?" Sherlock begged, taking her shoulders. Céline took his face into her hands. They locked eyes for a long moment and it struck Sherlock with a fear he had not known before. Her eyes were glazed with betrayal.

"God damn you." She managed to get out before another wave of tears wracked her body. She pushed him off one more time. "I don't want to look at you, get out!" Céline cried. Sherlock took a step back.

"You mean it?" He softly asked, drawing back as if he was a wounded dog. Céline kept her gaze on the floor. She nodded and pointed to the door. Sherlock nodded back and took a few steps toward the bedroom door before leaving. He went through her front room and out the entrance to the flat. When he stepped into the night air and shut her front door behind him tears pricked up in his eyes. The sharp look of betrayal on her face haunted him.

Back in her room Céline heard the front door shut. She stood completely still for a long moment before stumbling to the loo. She held her body so tight with the stress that a wave of nausea overwhelmed her and she found herself vomiting into the toilet. When it had stopped she flushed and sat up. Tears began to flow down her face once more as she stumbled to the sink and rinsed her mouth. The news of what had just happened to her hadn't fully hit her. He was alive. He was fine. She took a deep breath and grabbed her phone, seeing the many calls from Watson. She called him back.

* * *

Sherlock wandered down a few blocks before taking out his phone to call Mycroft. He had been crying. It felt uncomfortable and dirty to him but he couldn't help it. He ran through his mind how it went on, why she kicked him out. He dialed the number and brought the phone to his ear.

"Yes?" Mycroft answered after a moment of ringing. He heard Sherlock take a deep breath and a suspicious sniff reached his ears, causing him to perk up. "Have you been crying-"

"She kicked me out," Sherlock spoke, not wanting to tell his brother that he was, in fact, crying. Mycroft perked up, confused.

"She what?" Mycroft asked, putting Sherlock on speaker and going through his messages to see if she had contacted him. She hadn't.

"Céline kicked me out," Sherlock repeated urgently. "Mycroft…what…?" Sherlock trailed off as his emotions got the best of him again, causing him to abruptly hang up the call as a sob escaped his throat. Sherlock brought his arm to his face to wipe away the tears and moved to sit on a bench nearby. He was lost, confused, and he didn't know what to do with himself. The night air around him was still, the street quiet and empty.

* * *

Watson arrived at Céline's flat within minutes of the call. She was a bumbling mess on the phone explaining what had happened and now they were sitting in her living room crying together. Watson had explained his anger and given her a rundown of the evening and all the information Sherlock told him. Emotions began to run high again as Watson explained Mycroft's part in the situation. Particularly how Mycroft knew about Sherlock's status the entire time. Watson moved to sit beside Céline as she covered her face, crying at the information. Betrayal was sinking into Céline's skin and her tears were bitter and angry, not sad and depressed.

"Watson…can I tell you something?" Céline softly asked as she tried to compose herself a bit. Watson nodded.

"Of course." He replied. "Anything."

"Mycroft, he and I. We've been romantic," Céline explained, getting choked up again.

"What?" Watson asked, rage building in his stomach. He set his hand on Céline's shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"We've been romantic. It hasn't gotten serious but, Mycroft, he's stayed over to lull me to sleep, he would come with me to get dinner, we would talk on the phone most days..." Céline trailed off as her cries choked her speech. When she swallowed the tears back down she rubbed her eyes. "He knew, during all of that he knew." Céline stood and began to pace back and forth. "John, he came and held me through the night as I mourned his brother, knowing he was alive," Céline spoke, anger filling her chest. Watson rubbed his face, he was also upset. Before he could offer a suggestion, Céline picked up her phone and stormed into her bedroom. Watson sat with his feelings.

* * *

Mycroft sat taking in the silence for a moment after Sherlock hung up. His mind was racing, he was trying to reassure himself that no-one knew anything about him and Céline. Suddenly his phone rang and he quickly answered, not even checking the caller ID.

"Céline…" Mycroft spoke urgently but before he could say anything else she cut him off.

"Come to my flat." Céline bluntly spoke into the phone. There was a long pause before Mycroft hung his head.

"I'll be there in 10." He replied. Céline hung up the second he replied.

* * *

Watson waited until Céline walked back in, her eyes were bloodshot and snot ran from her nose. When she came back into the room she grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.

"Do you want me to stay?" Watson asked, concerned for his friend. Céline shook her head no.

"I need to do this alone." She softly spoke. "Can we get lunch tomorrow?" Watson stood and nodded, walking over to her. The two friends embraced.

"We will get through this," Watson spoke, trying to be strong and supportive. Céline nodded.

"We will." She replied, sniffling in his arms. When they pulled away Watson left and Céline went to the bathroom to wash her face and clean up before Mycroft got to her flat.


	56. The Empty Hearse 4

This chapter is full of DRAMA! I can't wait for you guys to see how the events unfold from here. What do you all think Sherlock should do to make it up to Céline?

* * *

Céline sat still in her living room. The 10 minutes Mycroft told her it would take him to get there felt like 10 years. Her hands were violently shaking and her mind was racing. He knew. This entire time he knew. She thickly swallowed, thinking of how close they had become. It made her feel disgusted and gross. The sound of a key in the door broke her train of thought and she perked up, her eyes slightly widening. Mycroft entered the apartment. He didn't look at her and shut the door behind him. After shutting the door he slowly made his way to her and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his.

"Céline, before you say anything…" Mycroft began, keeping his gaze away from hers.

"You knew." Céline cut him off, her voice cracking. She was trying to stay strong in the moment but the hurt was cutting deeper than she thought it ever could. Mycroft didn't say anything, he kept his gaze on the floor. His grip on her hands tightened. Céline watched him, waiting for a reply. "Look at me." She growled, Mycroft's eyes slowly raised to hers, he swallowed before speaking.

"I knew," Mycroft admitted. For one of the first times in his life, he was remorseful. He realized how deep his feelings for Céline were in this moment when he knew he would lose her. They stared into each other's eyes. Céline shook her head, her eyes full of betrayal. Before she could say anything tears began to welt in Mycroft's eyes. It caught her off guard and she was speechless.

"Céline…I'm sorry." Mycroft managed to ask, once again breaking their eye contact. He felt extremely overwhelmed with emotion and uncomfortable.

"Why?" Céline snapped back, grabbing his face and turning it back to look at her. "Tell me why." Mycroft felt under pressure. His mind began to race, he was trying to figure out a way out of the situation. Before he came to a solution Céline clutched his hand. "Tell me why!?" She demanded, shouting.

"I wanted you to myself," Mycroft replied without a beat. Céline stared at him in shock at the statement. Mycroft let go of her hand and stood, turning away from her. "He never knew how to treat you and with him gone I could finally take care of you. I've never felt this way about anyone." Céline felt tears filling her eyes once more. This situation was all too much for her, her heart was ripped in two and her trust was betrayed. She couldn't find words to tell him. Mycroft turned to her and she saw that tears had fallen down his cheeks.

"How long have you felt like this?" Céline asked, a part of her wanting his affection back after the months of romance.

"How long?" Mycroft repeated to himself, thinking. "Let me think. I very seriously began to feel this way about you during the Irene Adler nuisance." Mycroft answered. Céline thought about it for a long moment and felt herself tear up again. She covered her face and shook her head. Her feelings muddied by the two men, Sherlock and Mycroft. Mycroft sat beside her. "Céline?"

"God damn you Mycroft," Céline shouted, pushing him away as she cried into her hand. "You and him."

"Céline, I'm sorry," Mycroft begged, getting down to kneel in front of her again. He removed her hand from her face and tilted her chin down to look at him. Céline watched his face for a long moment until Mycroft closed the space between the two of them, kissing her. Céline was taken aback but she felt her eyes flutter shut for a moment, kissing back, before she decided that she couldn't let him do this to her. She pulled away from him and they both sat close for a moment. "I'm sorry," Mycroft repeated, his heart beating fast in his chest. Desperate for her forgiveness. Céline swallowed her tears and stood, going to the front door. She opened it.

"Get out." She snapped, hiding how weak she felt.

"Céline…" Mycroft began.

"Get out," Céline repeated, her eyes fixed onto the floor. Mycroft nodded and stood, leaving. When he got to the street corner he closed his eyes and thought of the brief moment she returned his kiss. He was angry with himself and deeply upset at the consequences of his actions for one of the first times in his life. Back in her apartment Céline slid to the floor, her back against the front door. She put her face in her hands and sat with her thoughts. She didn't want to see either of them ever again.


	57. The Empty Hearse 5

Next chapter is comin' tomorrow puddin's 3

* * *

Mycroft and Sherlock were both up all night.

Mycroft had gone home that night and in the morning he called off all of his meetings and spent his day holed up. Guilt was a new emotion for him and he was having trouble dealing with it. All night he paced the room, thinking of her lips against his and berating himself for his betrayal. A single question kept him up all night. If he had told her would she be with him now? Would she be his? Would she have chosen him over his brother?

* * *

Sherlock walked the streets all night before wandering to see the only person who would hear him out, Molly. When he got to her flat he knocked and the second she answered he tried to explain himself and why he was there but before he knew it he couldn't speak and tears were flowing down his cheeks. Molly was taken aback and panicked. She quickly ushered him in and offered him a box of tissues.

"Sherlock, I..." she began before he cut her off.

"Céline sent me away," Sherlock spoke, he didn't take the tissues and sat up straight. Uncomfortable. Molly's face fell.

"She what?" Molly began. Sherlock stood and began to pace.

"She sent me away. She told me that she never wanted to see me again but she wouldn't hear me out. I didn't do this to hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her. I wouldn't dream of it. She has to understand that? I love her!" Sherlock rambled, more to himself than to Molly. Molly sigh. Sherlock looked to her for an answer, reading her body language. "You don't agree with me," Sherlock observed, noticing how Molly's head was slightly tilted in thought, an uncomfortable scowl on her face.

"Do you realize what you put her through?" Molly seriously asked. Sherlock quickly nodded.

"Yes." He sternly spoke. Molly sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"I can't convince you of anything. But, maybe think about if you really do know what you put her through." Molly softly spoke. "I'm going to bed." Molly left and Sherlock was alone with his thoughts. He left once more and went back to 221B Baker Street. When he got to his room and laid down it felt empty. He had slept alone for the last two years but somehow it felt like the first time that evening. Sherlock thickly swallowed and thought about what Molly said _._ For once he tried to understand and he was mad at himself. He felt for a pillow and drew it close as if it was her body. His body collapsing into confused and shameful tears again.

* * *

Céline woke early the next morning. It was November 4th. Her first class was at 8 am sharp. When she got out of bed and drew the curtains she winced at the bright morning light that shone in through the window. She spent some time looking outside. The night before raced through her head. She bit her lip hard. Thinking of how Sherlock revealed himself after two years and how Mycroft hid it so she could be his. Tears filled her eyes before she swallowed them down. Deciding that the two men would not make her weak. She drug herself to the shower and got ready for class before leaving her flat.

Teaching was a great escape for her. That day she taught two three hour classes and as she packed up she felt a smile perk up on her cheeks. It was a small victory but she felt happy and at peace for the first time in the last 24 hours. She checked her phone, it was 3 pm and she had a message from Watson.

 _Lunch?_

She replied, telling him that she would meet him at a small cafe on campus and set out. He got there only a few minutes after she did and the two friends embraced. They got their tea and sat in a back corner. Céline explained to Watson about what happened with Mycroft and it upset him.

"I sent him out after the kiss," Céline spoke. "But, I just don't know, my head is all over the place. For a moment I kissed back. It's all I've thought about the last six months."

"Do you think you can forgive either of them?" Watson asked. "That's all Mary's been asking me. If I can forgive them and I'm not sure I can." Watson honestly spoke. Céline took a sip of her tea and let the question hang in the air for a moment before answering."

"I don't know, John. I decided that I want to go to a therapist for a while and I think that will help me figure it out." Céline softly spoke.

"Does Sherlock know about you and Mycroft?" Watson asked. "Did Mycroft tell him?" Céline's eyes grew wide for a moment in panic.

"I don't know." She honestly answered. At that moment neither Watson or Céline noticed the man a table away listening to them. The man was hiding it and pretending that he was reading a paper but he was methodically storing everything word they spoke in his mind. A smirk crossed his lips.

* * *

After Céline and Watson parted ways she returned home and called the therapist office. Watson had recommended it to her before she left and Céline booked a consultation for the next day. After that weight was lifted from her shoulders she opened her phone to her messages from Mycroft. There had been no new ones since the previous night and she just stared at it for a long moment. Her thoughts drifted. Could she forgive him? She didn't know. Before Céline could move to text him a call came in from Sherlock. Céline quickly sent it to voicemail and left her phone on the counter before going to take a bath.

* * *

Sherlock frowned when he was sent to voicemail. He shakily thought of what to say as the beep counted down to when he could start recording his message. When the tone rang he began to ramble.

"Céline, I know you're mad. But please, you can't be mad at me forever. I want to make it better. I want us to be back to before. Like things used to be. I'll do anything. Please, let me see you again. I want to be better, I want to understand and..." Sherlock spoke at a quick speed but the phone cut him off before he could continue. Sherlock lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. He decided to throw himself into the case Mycroft had forced his return for. He hoped that would bring a sense of normalcy back.

* * *

When Watson returned home Mary was waiting for him with a tablet in her lap. Watson hung his coat and headed for the bathroom.

"His movements were so silent. So furtive, he reminded me of a trained bloodhound picking out a scent." Mary began, reading from the tablet. Watson caught a bit of what she said and poked his head out of the bathroom for a moment.

"What?" Watson asked. Shaving cream covered his mustache. Mary giggled and smirked her eyes on the tablet as she scrolled through his blog.

"I couldn't help thinking what an amazing criminal he'd make if he turned his talents against the law." She matter of factly spoke. Watson realized what she was reading.

"Don't read that!" He urged. Mary scrolled through.

"The famous blog, finally! Ancient history, yes, I know. But it's not, though, is it, because he's..." As Mary spoke she looked up and noticed the shaving cream on Watson's face.

 _"_ What are you doing?!" Mary asked, intrigued. She set the tablet down beside her.

"Having a wash." Watson shrugged, trying to brush off her interest.

"You're shaving it off," Mary observed.

"Well, you hate it." Watson quickly retorted.

"Sherlock hates it." Mary corrected.

"Apparently everyone hates it." Watson chuckled.

"Are you gonna see him again?" Mary asked. Watson let the statement hang in the air as he began to remove his shaver from the bathroom cabinet. He didn't say anything. "I dunno, six months of bristly kisses for me, and then he turns up..." Mary teased, trying to ease the tension.

"I don't shave for Sherlock Holmes," Watson grumbled

"Oh! You should put that on a T-shirt!" Mary giggles

"Shut up," Watson smirked, a cheeky grin on his face. Mary wandered to the bathroom door and leaned against the frame.

"Or what?" She asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"Or I'll marry you," Watson smirked before lifting the razor and beginning his shave.


	58. The Empty Hearse 6

It was the morning of November 5th. Sherlock and Mycroft sat in 221b Baker Street.

"London. It's like a great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals, agents and drifters are irresistibly drained. Sometimes it's not a question of 'Who?', it's a question of 'Who Knows?' There are certain people, they are markers. If they start to move, I'll know something's up, like rats deserting a sinking ship." Sherlock spoke, his eyes focused on an Operation set. Mycroft sat across from him, he was closely watching his brother. They had not spoken about Céline and Sherlock was still ignorant of the budding relationship Mycroft had with her. Sherlock made his move and turned his eyes up to Mycroft. However, Mycroft quickly diverted them down to the table.

"All very interesting, Sherlock, but the terror alert has been raised to Critical," Mycroft spoke.

"Boring. Your move." Sherlock snapped, a bit slow to speak. Mycroft picked up on it and frowned.

"We have solid information. An attack is coming." Mycroft pressed, making his move and looking back up at his brother.

"Solid information? A secret terrorist organization is planning an attack, that's what secret terrorist organizations do, isn't it? It's their version of golf." Sherlock flippantly spoke, he had been trying to get himself back interested in things but the cold cut off from Céline was getting to him more than he outwardly realized.

"An agent gave his life to tell us that." Mycroft snapped, starting to get annoyed.

"Oh, well, perhaps he shouldn't have done. He was obviously just trying to show off." Sherlock snapped back without a second thought. Mycroft swallowed down a sigh, watching as his brother made a move.

"None of these markers of yours is behaving in any way suspiciously?" Mycroft suddenly asked before making his next movie. "Your move."

"No, Mycroft, but you have to trust me. I'll find the answer. It'll be in an odd phrase in an online blog, or an unexpected trip to the countryside, or a misplaced Lonely Hearts ad." Sherlock absentmindedly spoke, making another move.

"I've given the Prime Minister my personal assurance you're on the case," Mycroft spoke.

"I am on the case. We're both on the case. Look at us right now." Sherlock angrily replied.

"Oh, bugger!" Mycroft snapped as he dropped the pair of tweezers for the game. A small buzz and red light signaling that he lost.

"Can't handle a broken heart – how very telling." Sherlock scoffed. Mycroft visibly drew back, his body tightening up. Sherlock took notice and opened his mouth to say something but before he could ask what had caused it Mycroft stopped him.

"Don't be smart," Mycroft growled.

"I used to think I was an idiot." Sherlock sighed in response.

"Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on until we met other children." Mycroft observed, glad the moment passed with no suspicion.

"Oh, yes. That was a mistake." Sherlock trailed off.

"Ghastly. What were they thinking of?" Mycroft scoffed, his thoughts drifted to Céline.

"Probably something about trying to make friends," Sherlock spoke, noticing the faraway look in his brother's eye.

"Oh yes. Friends. Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now." Mycroft rolled his eyes. There was a long pause.

"And you don't? Ever?" Sherlock asked.

"If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like? I'm living in a world of goldfish." Mycroft spoke, being half honest. Sherlock frowned and put his hands in their thinking position in front of his face, watching his brother.

"Yes, but I've been away for two years," Sherlock spoke, Mycroft noticed he was watching him closely and did his best to straighten out his body language.

"So?" Mycroft defensively snapped.

"Oh, I don't know. I thought perhaps you might have found yourself a…goldfish." Sherlock observed, wondering who Mycroft had been thinking of. Mycroft stood and went to the door, grabbing his coat.

"I had better go. Work on the case." Mycroft snapped. Sherlock stood and followed his brother.

"Mycroft, what happened?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing happened." Mycroft snapped, his tone a pitch higher than usual.

"You're lying." Sherlock flatly observed. "You doesn't have to be isolated…" He began, confused at his brother's attitude.

"I'm sorry?" Mycroft frowned, almost offended. Sherlock watched him expectantly. "I'm not lonely, Sherlock." Mycroft calmly spoke, his demeanor slipping back into its normal state. Sherlock took a close step and watched him, intensity in his eyes.

"How would you know?" Sherlock asked, confused. The two brothers watched each other for a moment before Mycroft pushed past him.

"Yes. Back to work if you don't mind. Good morning." Mycroft snapped before rushing down the stairs and leaving.

* * *

Céline was on campus at her office, she had been meeting with students most of the day about their final projects and finally had some downtime. She slipped off her shoes and took a long moment to stretch. Her phone beeped and she quickly picked it up. It was Mycroft.

 _Hello._

Céline stared at the message for a long moment before rolling her eyes in frustration. She locked her phone and set it down on the table. After a moment it buzzed once more.

 _Please reply, I'm sorry. Let me prove it to you._

Céline frowned and sat still for a long moment before closing her phone and shoving it into a drawer. She rubbed her eyes and stood, slipping her shoes back on. She left her office and locked it. Heading to the campus coffee shop. When she got there the line was long and she waited her turn, lost in thought. She began to nervously chew her thumbnail as she thought.

She thought about Sherlock. He hadn't tried again. He hadn't called again. She thought for a moment that perhaps she was being unreasonable but she reasoned that if Sherlock really loved her that he would do more to try and show her how sorry he was. Her ears began to ring. She thought about how Sherlock decided to first tell Molly that he was alive. How Molly knew the whole two years and Sherlock had kept it from her. Céline felt pain deep in her stomach. It had been one full day and some hours since she sent him out of her apartment. She wondered where he was, or what he was doing. Her head began to pound. She thought about how he acted with Irene and was starting to feel shaken. Had he ever really loved her? She suddenly snapped back to reality when the Barista called her up to take her order. As she waited for her coffee she rubbed her eyes, thankful that her therapy consultation was that evening.

* * *

Mycroft was in the back of his car, he was still on the way back to his office. His eyes were fixed on their conversation, patiently waiting for her reply. Desperate. Sherlock was right, he was lonely.

* * *

Sherlock was pacing around 221b Baker Street, he was trying to think of how he would approach Céline but he was far too nervous to reach out, afraid she would send him away again. Miss. Hudson had been watching him nervously pace for the last couple minutes from the kitchen and she finally walked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Talk to Céline or John. Please." Miss. Hudson asked. Sherlock signed and pulled away from her touch.

"I tried talking to them. John made his position quite clear. And… Céline…I can't bear getting sent out by her again." Sherlock softly spoke. Miss. Hudson nodded before leaving him to go back downstairs. When Miss. Hudson had left Sherlock took out his phone and texted the one person he could think of, Molly.

He asked her to come over and she did. She arrived from the hospital about ten minutes after Sherlock replied and he awkwardly led her inside.

"You wanted to see me?" Molly softly asked, watching him expectantly.

"Yes," Sherlock spoke. Molly looked around and noticed the flat was messy and there was no sign of Céline anywhere. "Molly?" Sherlock asked, noticing her wandering eyes. Molly quickly cut him off.

"Where is Céline?" Molly asked. Sherlock shrugged and put his head down.

"Work probably, she's a professor now." Sherlock quickly answered.

"Why aren't you staying at her flat?" Molly pressed.

"She sent me away, she wouldn't let me explain." Sherlock quickly answered again. Not wanting to talk about it. "Look, Molly, would you like to solve crimes with me?"

"Get dinner with you?" Molly asked under her breath at the same time Sherlock asked her to solve crimes, her eyes wide with anticipation. Sherlock didn't hear her. "Oh…" Molly softly spoke under her breath.

* * *

Céline decided to ignore Mycroft on the taxi ride over to her therapist consultation. She wanted Sherlock to reach out, to truly apologize to her and to hear what she went through. Especially the night she was out at the park and almost threw herself into the river. When she got to her appointment she went inside, turning her phone completely off. A man was watching her from the cafe across the street, he had anticipated her. It was the same man who spent the evening listening to Céline and Watson's conversation. He smirked as he watched her, patiently settling in to wait for her to come out, desperate to know what she would do next. He took out his phone and opened his notes, typing out a draft message.

 _Save souls now!_

 _John or James Watson?_

 _Saint or Sinner?_

 _James or John?_

 _The more is Less?_

He tilted his head in thought, thinking about if he liked it or not before his gaze wandered to the building Céline had entered.


	59. The Empty Hearse 7

Get ready for A LOT of drama and big things happening! I present to you! The final two chapters to "The Empty Hearse" before we move to "Sign of Three!" Just a note for my lovely readers, a few plot devices are being slightly tweaked so get ready for the twists and turns! Please review and follow! xoxo

* * *

After a few minutes of staring at the draft message, a smug smile crossed the man's lips. He decided that he would be far more amused seeing Sherlock chase after his long lost love. He phoned a number from memory and after the first ring, the call was picked up.

"Change of plans. Come to Grosvenor Gardens. Therapists office across from my favorite cafe. We're going to pick up Céline, she's a bit weaker anyway. Get here now." The man spoke in his smooth and deep voice. After his order he hung up the line and went back to his draft messages changing some things.

 _Save souls now!_

 _Céline, Hair Is Brown?_

 _Saint or Sinner?_

 _James or John?_

 _The more is Less?_

As he changed the messaged his smug smile grew wider and he stood, leaving the cafe and catching a taxi away.

* * *

In the therapists office Céline had almost finished her consultation appointment. Céline liked her therapist a lot. Her name was Faith and she was an aloof but kind woman with glasses. She was so warm and inviting and it eased Céline's anxieties. They hadn't gone into much specifics about Céline's past and the things she wanted to discuss yet. However, Céline happily signed for an appointment for the next afternoon to get started. After she had said goodbye to Faith and left the sun had begun to set.

The streets around her were empty except for a man walking her direction down a ways and she curiously checked the time. The day underneath her phone's clock read "November 5th" and she nodded in realization. I was Guy Fawkes day and she knew festivities were centered in the park about ten minutes away. Céline didn't notice a black car just behind her slowing down and as she put her phone away she ran right into the man who had been walking her way. She drew back.

"Excus-" She began but before she could finish she felt his hand firmly grip her arm. Her body went into fight or flight and she quickly launched all of her body weight at his frame to push him away. The man was not expecting her to fight back and Céline fell out of his grasp.

After falling from his grasp Céline quickly tried to get to her feet and run but the man was far too fast. She let out a scream when he caught up with her a few feet down the sidewalk and he clasped a hand over her mouth. She tried biting him as her limbs flailed about, punching and kicking. But another man from the car that had been following her came out and helped hold her. She continued to punch and kick at the two men until the first let go of her mouth and got ahold of her right arm. He roughly shoved it behind her, dislocating it, and a sickening pop came from her shoulder. Céline screamed in pain and the man quickly shoved a syringe into her neck to keep her quiet. The effects were instantaneous and Céline quickly lost control of her body, she remained completely conscious, but she was unable to move as the two men lowered her to the ground and then picked her up to take her to the car.

* * *

Across town Sherlock and Molly were at Howard's Building on the staircase before the door. The sun had also been setting there. They had been on a case for Scotland Yard. Molly was waiting for Sherlock as he was sitting and thinking, his eyes closed calmly. She loved how he looked when he was lost in thought. Her thoughts drifted to what he had told her earlier. About Céline sending him out. Molly frowned, she thought it was selfish. She would sacrifice anything to be with Sherlock and to know Céline wouldn't even hear him out upset her. As his thoughts drifted she looked at her wedding ring. She had been engaged last month. Her eyes wandered from the ring to Sherlock and back. If he just offered, she would give up her fiancé in a heartbeat.

"The journey between those stations usually takes five minutes. That journey took _ten_ minutes – ten minutes to get from Westminster to St James's Park." Sherlock suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence and looking at Molly. "So I'm going to need maps, lots of maps, older maps, all the maps." Molly nodded.

"Right." She replied eagerly. Sherlock walked past her toward the door.

"Fancy some chips?" Sherlock asked as they headed out.

"What?" Molly asked, surprised at the request, her cheeks flushing.

"I know a fantastic fish shop just off the Marylebone Road. The owner always gives me extra portions." Sherlock shrugged, stopping at the bottom of the staircase.

"Did you get him off a murder charge?" Molly asked, curiously. Sherlock shook his head no.

"No, I helped him put up some shelves." He replied. Molly giggled and there was a silence between them for a moment.

"Sherlock?" She asked. Sherlock tilted his head.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Why would she leave you and throw you out? You left for noble reasons, it wasn't selfish." Molly snapped, both nervous and angry. "Maybe you don't need a woman who doesn't understand that." Sherlock watched her for a long moment before his gaze went to the floor.

"You know Molly, I never thanked you." Sherlock suddenly spoke. Trying to not talk about Céline.

"For what?" Molly asked.

"Everything you did for me," Sherlock replied. Molly watched him for a long moment and blushed, stepping down the stairs so she was standing beside him.

"It's okay. It was my pleasure." Molly replied, purposely lingering close. Sherlock nodded.

"Moriarty slipped up. He made a mistake. Because the one person he thought didn't matter at all to me was the one person that made it all possible." Sherlock spoke. For a moment his thoughts drifted. If he grabbed Molly and kissed her would it make him feel better about Céline? Molly saw Sherlock's eyes drift to her lips for a moment.

"You know, I had a lovely day. I'd love to…" Molly spoke up, speaking with her hands nervously to break the silence. Sherlock saw her ring as she did this.

"Congratulations, by the way," Sherlock spoke, his mind snapping back to reality, feeling stupid and guilty for even considering kissing Molly to forget Céline.

 _"_ He's not from work." Molly began. "We met through friends, the old-fashioned way. He's nice. We…he's got a dog. We go to the pub on weekends and I've met his mum and dad and his friends and all his family. I've no idea why I'm telling you this." Molly quickly spoke. Sherlock and Molly's eyes stayed locked the entire time she explained.

"I hope you'll be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it…" Sherlock spoke trailing off. Before he could say or do anything else, Molly was suddenly overcome with courage and she grabbed his lapel, kissing him on the lips.

* * *

It was evening now. Watson had just returned home and he was making dinner with Mary. His phone suddenly beeped and he checked it. The number was unknown.

 _Save souls now!_

 _Céline, Hair Is Brown?_

Another message came in and the phone beeped once more.

 _Saint or Sinner?_

 _James or John?_

 _The more is Less?_

Watson's face twisted in confusion. He read the message a couple of times over and tried to check the number but it was blocked.

"Mary?" Watson asked, rereading the message again and walking over to her. "I just got the two weirdest messages…"

* * *

As the sun set a full moon emerged. Céline was unconscious underneath a huge pile of sticks and leaves. She slowly began to come to, the effects of the drugs had slowly started to wear off. She slowly tried to lift herself but pain surged through her right shoulder. Tears filled her eyes and she tried to cry out in pain but no sound came out. It was as if her body wasn't working. She was certain it was because of the drugs. She tried turning to her other side but her body felt too weak.

* * *

After Mary had seen the message she forced Watson to take a taxi with her and go to 221b Baker Street. She knew something was horribly wrong. As they drove over Watson kept trying to text and call Céline to no avail. When they got to 221b Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson opened the door for them and Watson and Mary both pushed themselves inside.

"John? What's going on? Who is this?" Mrs. Hudson asked, confused.

"Sorry, we think someone's got Céline." Watson called as he went up the stairs, Mary lingered behind.

"Who are you?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Oh, I'm his fiancée," Mary answered, rushing after Watson. Watson pushed his way into the living room and suddenly stopped in his tracks. Molly and Sherlock were sitting across from the armchairs in front of the fire having tea. Watson opened his mouth to say something but the words escaped him. Mary put a hand on his shoulder. Sherlock stood and frowned.

"John? Mary? What's-" Sherlock began. Watson was shaking his head looking from Molly to Sherlock. Mary pushed past him and took his phone from his pocket, opening it to the messages.

"Someone sent John first I thought it was just a Bible thing, you know, spam, but it's not. It's a skip-code." Mary explained. Sherlock and Watson shared a glance before Sherlock looked down at the message. He felt sick the second he read it.

 _Save souls now!_

 _Céline, Hair Is Brown?_

"First word, then every third. Save…Céline.…Brown…" Sherlock read. Molly awkwardly set her tea down and watched. Mary nodded,

"There there was this one," Mary explained.

 _Saint or Sinner?_

 _James or John?_

 _The more is Less?_

Sherlock's face fell. The words "Saint James The Less" stood out to him. Sherlock passed Mary back the phone.

"Take Molly to the hospital and wait for us. Let's go John." Sherlock rushed to the door and grabbed his coat. Watson and Mary shared a look. Mary knew he was upset and set a hand on his shoulder.

"Go, for Céline," Mary spoke, passing Watson back his phone before Watson scoffed and took off after Sherlock. They got outside and Sherlock began pacing.

"What the hell are you pacing for?" Watson was frantically looking at all the cars parked on the street.

"They're too slow…." Sherlock was frustrated and just barely missed getting out of the way of a car but to his delight, a motorcycle began coming down the street and Sherlock threw himself in front of it to stop it. The two quickly hijacked the motorcycle and were racing for the church. Sherlock was calculating the quickest route. He wouldn't forgive himself if he let something happen to Céline. Watson's phone beeped and he checked it.

 _Getting warmer Mr. Holmes_

 _You have about ten minutes_

* * *

Molly and Mary took an awkward taxi ride to the hospital. Mary was watching Molly with a judgmental eye.

"So, what were you doing with Sherlock at his flat?" Mary asked, suspicious.

"We were having tea…" Molly answered, keeping her eyes low. Sherlock had invited her to 221b Baker Street after their kiss but nothing else had happened.

"Ah, comforting him about Céline?" Mary asked, a dripping sarcastic tone on her speech.

"You could say that," Molly answered. Mary shook her head and scoffed, upset for her friend. There was a silence in the taxi for a long moment before Molly spoke up again. "What happened to her?"

"I don't know," Mary replied honestly, wondering who was behind this.

* * *

Céline slowly continued to take in her surroundings. She could hear people around her but could tell that no-one saw her.

"H-Help," Céline spoke, only able to get out the word in barely a whisper. She tried to move again but her shoulder sent a shockwave of pain through her body and she hissed in pain, tears filling her eyes.

* * *

"Sherlock we have to hurry." Watson pressed as another text message came in. This time reading…

 _8 minutes and counting..._

Sherlock nodded and accelerated but to his dismay a roadblock was up for the festivities. Sherlock cursed to himself and closed his eyes tight, thinking of a new way to go before suddenly turning the bike a new direction. One of the police officers shouted at him but he ignored it as they began to drive off the road.

* * *

In the park, fireworks began to go off. A little girl holding a sparkler slowly walked to the large bonfire and stared at it. Céline could see her slightly from where she laid. She ignored the pain of her shoulder and tried dragging herself toward the small space where she saw the little girl. The pain was horrible but she pushed on so she would survive. She opened her mouth to cry out for help but no sound came out, the drugs still having an effect on her body. Fear suddenly filled her being as a man passed the little girl and threw a flaming block of wood onto the sticks and foliage that surrounded her. Suddenly the small spaces Céline could see out of were engulfed in flames and she drew back, feeling faint from the pain of constantly using her shoulder.

* * *

"Sherlock. We need to hurry." Watson snapped in panic as another message came through.

 _Better hurry things are heating up here..._

* * *

The little girl watched as her dad lit the bonfire but the flames began to dull. He frowned.

"No. It's not gonna work. Bit damp. I'll get something to help it along, yeah?" He spoke to his daughter. The little girl nodded and watched the fire as it shouldered. Céline was crying as smoke clouded her vision, all she could do was make the motions of screaming to no avail. Thankfully, after trying this for a couple of minutes a soft scream was let out. The little girl perked up at the noise and focus her gaze on the Guy Fawkes figure that had been built atop the bonfire.

* * *

Watson was starting to panic.

"There's another message." He snapped, showing it to Sherlock.

 _Stay of execution. you've got two more minutes._

Sherlock began to panic with Watson but decided to take a pedestrian underpass to get there. Pedestrians cursed and ran out of the way of the motorcycle.

* * *

The little girl's dad returned with a can of petrol but before he could use it his daughter stopped him.

"He doesn't like it, Daddy." She protested. The dad shrugged it off. "Guy Fawkes – he doesn't like it!" She continued but he took the lid off the can.

"Zoe, it'll be fine. Stay back." He sternly spoke. The little girl nodded and stepped away, watching on anxiously. Céline connoted to scream in the bonfire but it was still too faint.

Sherlock and Watson were now in view of the bonfire and a text tone came in, this time from Sherlock's phone. Watson took it from his pocket.

"Sherlock…" Watson spoke, showing him.

 _What a shame Mr. Holmes. I thought you loved her._

Sherlock suddenly realized as the bonfire was set ablaze.

"Oh my god," Sherlock spoke to himself before accelerating for the bonfire. The onlookers celebrated but suddenly Céline's voice fully came back to her.

"Help!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. The little girl tugged her father's jacket and screamed. Some of the onlookers that heard exchanged confused glances. "Help!" Céline continued. She suddenly heard the motorcycle.

"Jump off." Sherlock snapped at Watson and the two men jumped from the motorcycle. Sherlock rushed through the people, pushing them aside. Desperate to save her.

"Céline!" Sherlock screamed, tears in his eyes. Céline heard him and screamed.

"Sherlock!" She cried. He heard her and quickly went for her location, throwing wood aside so he could grab her. Watson caught up to him and began to help.

"My shoulder." She shouted as she saw the two men clearing the path. Sherlock nodded and wrapped his arms around her chest to pull her out, noticing her swelling shoulder. He pulled her to safety and wrapped her in his arms, taking her face into his hands.

"Céline," Sherlock spoke to her. It was all he could say before she collapsed of exhaustion in his arms.

* * *

Sherlock and Watson quickly rushed Céline to the hospital. Molly and Mary were already waiting. She was rushed into a room and they checked her out and hooked her up to some IVs. Sherlock and Watson both waited outside. Mary and Molly waited in the waiting room.

Sherlock was crouched down against the wall, he was lost in thought. Watson just watched him.

"Do you know what you put her through?" Watson finally asked. Sherlock sigh.

"Molly asked me that days ago." Sherlock scoffed, rubbing his eyes. Watson frowned.

"That's another thing. What is going on with you and Molly? You've just given up on Céline? You don't see what you put her through and don't care and now you've just moved on to Molly." Watson snapped. Sherlock groaned and stood.

"Watson, I don't know." Sherlock snapped, he was feeling sick.

"What don't you know?" Watson pressed, angry. "You make me sick."

Sherlock let the statement hang in the air for a moment. It hurt him. It was the first time in a long time he felt hurt. He began to question his high-functioning sociopath self-diagnosis and turned his body away from Watson. Tears filled his eyes and he couldn't hold them back.

"Look at me." Watson snapped. Sherlock slowly turned toward him and Watson was taken aback at his crying.

"I don't know how to love her without hurting her." Sherlock finally spoke, a tremor in his voice, the tremor pushed him over the edge and he suddenly let everything go. All his guilt, his confusion. He started crying. Watson stood there, his eyes wide. He was lost for words. "All I'll ever do is hurt her. So maybe I need to push her away to save her."

"Sherlock.." Watson softly spoke. Sherlock wiped his tears away with the back of her hands.

"I love her so much John. She's the light of my life. She's all that keeps me going." Sherlock spoke, thickly swallowing. "Molly kissed me today and I kissed back. I think that I did because it helped me forget Céline for a few moments."

"Sherlock, you need to talk to Céline." Watson seriously spoke.

"I'm scared of her," Sherlock replied. Mary suddenly interrupted the two men.

"She's waking up," Mary spoke. Watson nodded.

"We'll be right in." He spoke. Mary could feel the tension in the air as she looked between the two men and nodded before rushing back inside. Watson looked at his friend.

"I'll come by tomorrow after work," Watson spoke, it was his way of saying that he forgave his friend. Sherlock looked up at him and nodded before thickly swallowing and going back inside. Mary and Watson decided to let Sherlock go in and see Céline alone first. Molly awkwardly waited with them. Mary ignored her, standing in solidarity with Céline and Watson tried to make small talk before Molly excused herself to go to the bathroom.

* * *

Céline was lost in thought and when Sherlock entered she perked up, looking at him with a blank look. Her right arm was in a cast.

"Célin…" Sherlock began. Tears filled her eyes the second he spoke.

"Mary said you were at home with Molly," Céline spoke. Sherlock could see the look of betrayal in her eyes and let the question hang in the air for a long moment. Céline was upset. When Mycroft had kissed her she sent him out, she didn't invite him to stay. She felt like she hadn't betrayed Sherlock as he had her.

"I was," Sherlock spoke. "But, Céline, it's nothing…" Sherlock was being honest when he spoke. When he kissed Molly back in the staircase he did it because he was confused. "Céline please let me explain myself." He went to her bedside and took her left hand. "I didn't leave like I did to hurt you." Céline stared deep into his eyes for a long moment.

"Well you did hurt me," Céline spoke. It was all she could muster. Her thoughts raced with all she went through but she couldn't bring herself to tell him. About the suicide attempt or the endless nights.

"I'll do anything to make it up to you, Céline please…" Sherlock begged before Molly entered the room. On her way back from the bathroom she decided to see what was going on instead of returning back to Watson and Mary. Céline's face fell the second Molly entered.

"Sorry, Céline, are you ok? I was worried about you and Sherlock." Céline looked from Molly to Sherlock and thickly swallowed. Sherlock didn't look at or say anything to Molly. Céline knew deep down it was because something had happened between them and Sherlock didn't know what to do. Tears began to fall down Céline's face and she took her hand away from Sherlock's.

"Get out." She spoke to him, holding her composure. Sherlock nodded, he stood and left the room, pulling Molly out with him.

* * *

Sherlock and Molly passed the waiting room and left. Watson was used to Sherlock leaving in that manner so he didn't think twice about it and went to see how Céline was doing but Mary lingered and watched Sherlock and Molly exit, deeply upset before turning to go follow Watson.

When Watson entered Céline was sobbing into her hand. She had let all her emotions go the second Sherlock left. Watson didn't know what to do. Mary sent him out to wait before sitting on the edge of the hospital bed to take her friend into her arms.

"Mary, why did he…" Céline managed to speak through tears. "Why did he just go to another woman? I turned Mycroft away for him. Why didn't he turn her away?"

"Because men are pigs." Mary angrily spoke, letting her friend sob into her arms.

* * *

Sherlock walked Molly home. He was sick with confusion and guilt. His mind hadn't been this bad since the time he spent as a junkie. Sherlock wanted to forget Céline just as much as he wanted to go beg at her feet until she forgave him. Molly noticed this confusion and when they got to her flat they paused at the door.

"My fiancé is gone all weekend on business. He left yesterday and won't return until Monday morning." Molly spoke. Sherlock looked at her, knowing what she was inviting him to do. Molly took a deep breath. "Do you want to come inside?" She asked. Sherlock answered by grabbing Molly and kissing her deeply. His grief dissipating from his mind as he distracted himself with her body against his as they began to passionately kiss before disappearing into her flat. It was as if he had taken a shot of morphine into his arm. Across the street, photos had been taken from a black car of their moment, but Sherlock and Molly had not noticed.


	60. The Empty Hearse 8

The next morning Sherlock was the first to wake up. He was asleep in Molly's room, she was fast asleep still in his arms. Sherlock sat for a long moment with the realization of what he had done. He moved to sit up and Molly stirred and rolled over to the other side of the bed.

"Sherlock?" She asked. Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed and spent some time rubbing his eyes. Molly sat up and went to him, setting a hand on his shoulder. Sherlock pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock spoke, shaking his head.

"What?" Molly asked, confused.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock repeated more urgently. "Molly, I don't know what I'm doing." He turned to look back at her. "Whatever happened last night, I want you to keep it secret, it meant nothing." Sherlock bluntly spoke. Molly stared at him for a minute.

"Sherlock…you can't mean that." She began to protest but Sherlock stood and went to put on his clothes.

"Molly, I mean It and I'm sorry to do this to you." Sherlock continued, trying to get out of her flat as soon as possible.

"Sherlock you can't just leave me here after last night!" Molly shouted.

"I can and I will." Sherlock frowned, grabbing his jacket. Molly blocked the door with her body.

"I was right you know, she isn't right for you. I am." Molly snapped. Sherlock was getting annoyed.

"Do not bring Céline into this," Sherlock growled.

"I'm sure she got around while you were gone," Molly spoke, coldly. Sherlock turned red and grabbed her arm, getting in her face.

"Look, Molly, you can't corner a grieving man and expect that sleeping with him will make him fall in love with you." Sherlock coldly spoke back.

"What do you have to grieve?" Molly spoke before Sherlock pushed her out of the way and left. Molly followed him down the stairs. "You'll be back when she sends you away again," Molly shouted after him, her nerves causing her voice to crack.

"I'm not coming back Molly," Sherlock spoke before leaving and slamming the door in her face. He didn't realize that Mycroft had dropped his parents off at 221b Baker Street that morning.

* * *

Mary was kind to be there first thing in the morning with a change of clothes when Céline was able to leave. Céline was able to change that morning and she was stuck with a sling for the next couple days while her dislocated shoulder had a chance to fully heal. When Mary got there they quickly left for her appointment, driving in silence for a long part of the drive.

"You don't have to go, I'm sure they'll reschedule." Mary finally spoke up when they got about halfway to her appointment. Céline sigh.

"Mary, I have to. I'm not going to let him make me weak." Céline sternly spoke. Mary nodded and turned the radio up. A couple of minutes later they got to the therapist's office and Céline got out. "Thank you."

"Of course, just tell me when you get back to your flat so I know you're not…" Mary began. Céline nodded.

"I will, I promise." She spoke. Mary smiled and pulled away and Céline watched her for a moment before entering the therapist's office to check-in and wait for her appointment.

* * *

Mycroft had been updated about the evening's events by one of his agents. He just knew about Céline and the strange kidnapping and he put some of his agents on it to find out who had done it. But deep down he was certain that nothing would be found out. That morning he had been tied up with his parents. They were visiting from the country and they annoyed him over breakfast before requesting to see Sherlock before their Matinee of Les Mis. Mycroft had dropped them off at 221b Baker Street and they had been entertained by Mrs. Hudson for an hour before Sherlock arrived back home. It was odd to Mycroft, he wondered where Sherlock had been. He wondered if he had spent the night with Céline in the hospital. When he returned to his office he decided that he had wasted too much time most of the day and focused his energy on work and nothing else, shutting his mind off whenever it wandered to Céline or his brother. He wanted to get as much done as possible before his parents returned in a few hours.

* * *

Watson got to 221b Baker Street after taking a half-day at work. He entered the house and heard talking coming from upstairs. When he entered the living room Sherlock perked up.

"John!" He exclaimed, excited that he had a reason to kick his parents out. They were the ones sitting on the couch talking. Watson saw them on the couch and drew back.

"Sorry, you're busy," Watson observed. Sherlock quickly rushed over and pulled his mom to her feet.

"Oh no! They were just leaving!" Sherlock quickly spoke. Sherlock's mother exchanged a confused glance with her daughter.

"Oh, were we?" Sherlock's mom asked, confused. Sherlock nodded.

"No, no, if you've got a case." Watson pressed. Sherlock gave him a look.

"No, not a case." Sherlock bluntly spoke. Pushing his mom and dad toward the door, when he got them to the hallway he spoke to them. "Go, bye!"

"Yeah, well, we're here 'til Saturday, remember." Sherlock's mom spoke. "Give us a ring." As Sherlock pushed them out down the stairs his mom continued to talk. "I can't tell you how glad we are, Sherlock. All that time people thinking the worst of you. We're just _so_ pleased it's all over."

"Ring up more often, won't you? She _worries_." Sherlock's father spoke as they got to the entrance to 221b Baker Street.

"Promise." Sherlock's mom spoke as Sherlock opened the door and shoed them outside.

"Promise." Sherlock snapped before slamming the door shut and taking in a deep breath. He returned upstairs. "Sorry about that." Watson shrugged.

"No, it's fine. Clients?" He asked, curious. Sherlock shrugged.

"...Just my parents. They're in town for a few days. Mycroft promised to take them to a matinee of _"Les Mis."_ But can you believe he tried to talk _me_ into doing it." Sherlock scoffed.

"Those were your parents?" Watson laughed. "They're so…ordinary?" He was amused. Sherlock scoffed and turned to the evidence pinned to the walls, shrugging.

"It's a cross I have to bear." He softly spoke. Sherlock had been distracted from the mess he had caused with his personal life by trying to kick his parents out and focus on the terrorist plot Mycroft had trusted him with. Sherlock turned and noticed Watson was back to normal. "See you've shaved it off, then." Sherlock pointed out, noticing the missing mustache.

"Yeah. Wasn't working for me." Watson shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. Sherlock chuckled.

"Good. I prefer my doctors clean-shaven." Sherlock nodded, turning to the evidence.

"So, why am I here?" Watson asked, sitting down in his old armchair. Sherlock was carefully staying the evidence.

"According to Mycroft. There's an underground network planning an attack on London, that's all we know." Sherlock began.

* * *

Céline was at work in her office. Her therapist's appointment with Faith had gone well. She had discussed a lot about her father and Moriarty during the course of the meeting and she was set to go back next week. It was Sunday but she decided to drop by and work on her lesson plans for the week to get her mind off of Sherlock and all of his antics. As she worked she decided she wanted a coffee and wandered over to the coffee shop. As she waited for the barista to prepare her order she was lost in thought. Considering what her therapist had told her that morning about Mycroft.

There was no doubt, Céline was hurt. Sherlock had hurt her once more but she tried to reason that she wasn't sure how far he and Molly had gone or what exactly had happened between them and that thought brought her temporary solace. However, when she returned to her office. Molly Hopper was waiting for her by her office door and that illusion would quickly shatter.

"Molly?" Céline frowned. Molly nervously straightened up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be here since it's a Sunday, but I thought I'd wait a few minutes," Molly spoke, beating around the bush. Céline felt her heart beating fast in her chest.

"What are you doing here?" Céline curtly asked, wanting her to get to the point and leave. Molly took a deep breath.

"I needed to tell you something woman to woman," Molly spoke. The statement knocked the wind out of Céline but she didn't show it. She knew what Molly was about to say and knew it would break her heart in two. Molly was quiet, waiting for a reaction from Céline before delivering the final blow.

"Well, get on with it." Céline calmly spoke, keeping her breathing steady as her therapist had taught her to.

"Sherlock stayed the night at my flat," Molly spoke. "We consummated our relationship." Céline felt sick, she let the statement hang in the air for a moment before stepping past Molly to her office door.

"Thank you for telling me," Céline spoke, tucking her coffee against her body with her sling and rummaging for her office key. It took every ounce of her being to not break down when saying it. When Céline found her key she unlocked the door and shut it behind her, leaving Molly outside in the hallway alone. Molly quickly scuttled away when Céline had shut herself in her office.

Céline set her coffee on her desk and sunk to the floor, resting her head against the side of the desk. She could hear Molly's heels against the floor outside and waited until they faded into the distance to let out a cry of pain. She drew her knees into her chest. Her heart had been ripped in two knowing that her worst suspicions had been confirmed and she spent the next few minutes letting herself feel and express whatever she needed to.

* * *

In another place, a man was watching footage of Sherlock and Watson pulling Céline's body from the bonfire. His eyes were glazed over. A man entering broke his concentrations.

"Magnussen. She found out. Hooper went and told her…" The man spoke. Magnussen frowned and turned back to the footage, rewinding it to watch it over again. Magnussen had been closely watching and following Céline. He figured she was an asset to use to control both Sherlock and Mycroft. She was high on both of the men's lists of "pressure points". When the relationship between Molly and Sherlock developed he gathered enough information to extort Sherlock but now his plans had been ruined by Molly. Magnussen watched the footage closely and finally hit a solution. He began to laugh and turned to the man who had entered to give him the news.

"No, no…This is better." Magnussen took out his phone and scrolled through his photo folders until he reached the photos of Sherlock and Molly. A smug smirk was on his face and he sent all of the photos to Mycroft under an unmarked number. "Tell Faith to press a Mycroft angle."

* * *

Mycroft was in Les Mis when he got the texts. He slowly stood and excused himself. When he got to the foyer he checked the message. It was from an unknown number. They were a photograph of Sherlock and Molly embraced in front of her flat the evening before. Mycroft scrolled through them, his blood boiling. He thought about what to do for a moment and decided to call Sherlock. Sherlock answered a few moments after the ring had started.

"What?" Sherlock bluntly spoke. He and Watson had been reviewing the train disappearance footage all afternoon and had just reached the conclusion that there was a terrorist plot that had to do with the vote in parliament the following evening. Mycroft's call had interrupted them.

"What the hell happened last night?" Mycroft snapped, trying to keep his voice down. This was the last straw for Mycroft, his brother hadn't realized what he had with Céline's love. He envied it and wished for it so deeply and his brother flippantly took advantage.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock spoke, his tone was innocent. He was trying to stay neutral.

"Did you fuck Molly?" Mycroft bluntly asked. Sherlock got quiet on the other line.

"It was a mistake," Sherlock answered. "Céline sent me out again and I didn't know what else to do…"

"Didn't know what else to do!?" Mycroft shouted, an usher shushed him and he apologized and lowered his tone. "Didn't know what else to do? Sherlock, what do you mean you didn't know what else to do?"

"What would you know Mycroft, you've never been with a woman." Sherlock snapped. Mycroft bit his cheek. He had been with many women. He had been in casual relationships for years but they had simply run their course. Casual sexual relationships were something that didn't interest Mycroft anymore and that was part of why his feelings for Céline had been so unique and strong.

"Sherlock, you're going to regret this. You're so stupid." Mycroft snapped. Sherlock groaned on the other line.

"Look, Mycroft it meant nothing, don't tell her," Sherlock begged.

"What do you mean don't tell her? She has a right to know." Mycroft argued. He heard applause from the theatre and knew that people would be coming out soon.

"It's not your place to tell her." Sherlock began.

"Well, will you?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock got quiet again and hung up the phone. Mycroft didn't know what to do next. He went to his messages and lingered on Céline's number before everyone began leaving the theatre.

* * *

When Sherlock hung up he had a message from Molly.

 _I told her everything._

Sherlock stared at the message for a long moment and immediately called Céline. The number quickly clicked and disconnected. Céline had blocked his number. Watson was sitting in the armchair.

"What happened?" He asked, confused. Sherlock shook his head and put on his jacket.

"Nothing, I'll be right back." Sherlock threw his phone onto the couch and went downstairs, buying three packages of cigarettes from the small shop under his flat.

* * *

Mycroft was sitting on the steps that led up to her flat. A vase of roses sat beside him. Right after the show ended he sent his parents to dinner and got Céline the roses. He could hear her heels before he saw her. When she crossed the small entryway to the stairs she stopped when she saw him. The first thing Mycroft noticed was her sling and her puffy red eyes. She knew. He wasn't sure if Sherlock had told her but he could tell she knew. He and Céline watched each other for a long moment before he stood and stepped close.

"I came as soon as I was able." Mycroft softly spoke. Céline swallowed down more tears before closing the space between him to hug him with her good arm. Mycroft wrapped his arms around her, careful of her sling. "Céline, I'm sorry." He honestly spoke. She didn't say anything but he heard her sniffle. Mycroft pulled away and placed a hand on her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "Let's go inside." He softly spoke, kissing her forehead.

"Ok." Céline softly spoke, leading Mycroft to her apartment.

* * *

Things are getting heated up puddin's! Will Sherlock and Céline ever recover? Stay tuned! I decided to add one more chapter to wrap-up "The Empty Hearse" and that will come to you in the next couple of days!


	61. The Empty Hearse 9

Céline woke up in Mycroft's arms. They had not done anything intimate the previous night, rather, he just spent the night with her so she didn't feel so alone. She stared at the ceiling for a long point, taking in the rare moment of peace that filled the room as she was half awake. She looked over at Mycroft and studied his sleeping face. Whenever he slept he had a permanent look of concern etched onto his face. Sherlock was the opposite. When he slept he looked at ease. She wondered why Mycroft was so worried. As if he could sense her eyes Mycroft began to stir and woke up. In his moment of peace while half asleep he pulled her closer, careful of her arm injury.

"Good morning." Mycroft softly spoke. The two sat in silence for a long moment before Céline reached over to the side table and checked her phone. She had 12 missed calls from an unmarked number, Sherlock most likely. She sat up, much to Mycroft's dismay.

"I have some meetings with students today before class, I should get ready." Céline softly spoke. Mycroft nodded and sat up on one arm as Céline got up from bed. He watched her with a look of admiration before getting up. He was in the same clothes he was wearing the night before, his suite jacket was sitting on the kitchen island.

"Céline, will you be ok?" Mycroft asked, gently turning her toward him from where she looked at her clothing rack. Céline lowered her eyes and thought for a second.

"I'll be ok." She replied, trying to stay strong. Mycroft took her hand in his.

"Céline, I'm sorry. I should have told you." Mycroft spoke, honestly. His gaze was on the floor, he was too afraid to look up and meet her eyes. Céline watched him, judging how honest he was being. She let the statement hang in the air for a long moment before taking his face into her hands and kissing him on the forehead.

"I accept your apology." Céline softly spoke. "I'll see you later. Why don't you come by tonight?" Mycroft quickly looked up to meet her eyes and nodded, she could feel how nervous he was. Without another second to spare Mycroft agreed to come back over and he left her to the rest of her day. Céline took a shower and then went to school. As she walked over to campus she called her therapist and set up a home appointment for after her class. She wanted to talk to someone about her current circumstances.

* * *

When Mycroft got to his office he was so relieved and was finally able to put worries to the side. He spent the rest of the day in meetings.

* * *

Back at 221b Baker Street Sherlock was in his room, it was full of thick smoke and he hadn't slept. Seven packs of cigarettes littered the ground. He was pacing back and forth in the small space. The smoking was all he could do to keep his thoughts under his control. He started smoking back to back when Céline didn't answer his calls from his unmarked number. Sherlock's hands shook badly and he was trying to focus on the plot he and Watson had uncovered.

* * *

Céline had gotten through her office time quickly. It was basic meetings with students to help them along with homework questions and lecture questions. That afternoon when she was teaching she saw a man sneak in the back. It confused her. He was a thin man with a thick goatee. She thought that he might have been a higher up in the university or a donor that came to watch the class. That was not unusual. When he sat in the back he focused his gaze on her and didn't break it for anything. The weirdest thing about this focus to Céline was the way his eyes were glazed over, yet highly focused behind his tiny glasses.

Céline didn't know but it was Charles Magnussen. He had come to watch her again. He was reading through her information.

 _Céline Josephine Brown_

 _University Professor_

 _Alone_

 _Former Scotland Yard Detective_

 _Status: Of Intrest_

 _Family: Mother, Deceased. Father, Locked in Sherrinford._

 _Pressure Points:_

 _PTSD_

 _Mother, Josephine Brown's, Murder_

 _Father, Hugh Brown, Locked in Sherrinford_

 _Sherlock Holmes, Former Lover, Recently Cut Off_

 _Mycroft Holmes, New Lover?_

 _John and Mary Watson (See File)_

 _Miss. Hudson (See File)_

 _Jim Moriarty Kidnapping_

 _Molly (See File)_

 _Irene Adler (See File)_

 _Damsel in Distress Complex_

 _Abandonment Complex, Scared of Being Alone_

 _Guilt Around Leaving Scotland Yard_

Magnussen smirked at the list and when he had felt like he studied enough he stood and left class. Céline took notice of this. He had come in, sat and watched class for an hour and left. It made her uncomfortable.

* * *

When Magnussen got to the hallway he took a stick of gum from his pocket and began to chew it as he dialed a number. The phone rang for a moment before a woman picked up.

"Hello, this is Faith…" She began.

"Faith." Magnussen flippantly spoke, cutting her off. He could hear her breath catch in her chest on the other line.

"Oh…" Faith spoke.

"My people talked with you already regarding a new patient of yours, yes?" Magnussen asked as he walked through campus to where his driver had been ordered to wait for him.

"I have a lot of new patients." Faith began, trying to play innocent before Magnussen cut her off again.

"Céline Brown. That's who my people talked to you about." Magnussen replied.

"Oh, yes." Faith spoke with a defeated tone.

"I hear that you have a house appointment this afternoon with Céline Brown?" Magnussen inquired as he got into his car. He waved at the driver and the driver began the trip back.

"I do…" Faith replied. A smirk crossed Magnussen's face.

"Excellent. I called to emphasize the importance of pushing her toward a man named Mycroft. I know my men discussed this with you when they spoke with you recently. But I just want to emphasize how important it will be for your family's reputation." Magnussen spoke, his tone cold and calculated.

"Yes…I'll make sure to." Faith replied. Faith was the daughter of Culverton Smith, a prominent businessman in England. She had been in a bad relationship through college and had numerous inappropriate photos and videos taken of her. Faith thought she had gotten ahold of all of them and destroyed them but Magnussen had gotten ahold of some of the deleted videos and photos from her past and was holding it over her head.

"Thank you, we will be in touch," Magnussen spoke before hanging up.

* * *

When Céline got done with teaching her class she tried to push the strange man out of her mind. She hurried home and made a pot of tea for when Faith arrived. She wasn't sure what to do about Mycroft and wanted to talk about it. As the kettle began to boil Céline heard a small knock. She hurried to the door and let Faith in.

"Hello! Thank you for meeting me at home, I hope it's not to strange a request." Céline nervously spoke. She took Faith's jacket and hung it from a hook near the front door. Faith shook her head.

"Not at all." Faith smiled. Céline could sense Faith's nervousness but she didn't realize it was because of Magnussen. She assumed it was something she did.

"Make yourself comfortable," Céline spoke, leading Faith to the living space where all the couches where. "Let me go get the tea." Faith thanked her and sat on Céline's armchair before Céline went to the kitchen and brought back tea. Once they settled they began the session. After they had talked about Sherlock's actions and how he slept with Molly Céline began to open up about Mycroft.

"I'm just not sure. I know my feelings for Mycroft are real. They're honest. It's not, a rebound or anything like that. But I just feel so guilty. Sherlock is the first man I've ever loved and I don't know how I could forgive him. But I still feel so guilty." Céline spoke. "I want to throw myself into Mycroft's arms but I still don't want to hurt Sherlock and I know it would hurt him." Faith took some notes.

"Well, Céline. You blocked Sherlock correct?" Faith asked. Céline nodded. "So you've cut contact with him?"

"Yes…I don't know if I could look him in the eye ever again." Céline softly spoke, tears pricking up in her eyes. "I can't understand…"

"Well, Céline, he doesn't have a right to know about your new relationship. If you choose to have one." Faith spoke. "Céline, I think you should throw yourself into Mycroft's arms. Sherlock doesn't need to know." Céline watched her for a moment before her gaze went to the floor, considering her words.

"But what if he finds out?" Céline asked. "Molly hurt me, but I'm afraid that…" Céline trailed off and shook her head. "His brother…that's a different kind of betrayal."

"Céline, you can't live your life wondering how Sherlock will react to your decisions." Faith spoke. Céline nodded. The session continued for the next half hour and when it was finished Faith said goodbye and they rescheduled for the following week. Céline checked her phone when she was finished and saw a text from Mycroft.

 _Can I come over now?_

She looked at the text for a long moment before replying.

 _Yes._

* * *

In another place, Sherlock and Watson were sitting in a Tube Car. The stress of the moment filled the air. A bomb had been about to go off and Sherlock acted as if he couldn't shut it off. The two men were seemingly prepared for death as the counter went down. Sherlock wanted to play a prank on Watson to take his mind off of things. In actuality, Sherlock had shut off the bomb and called the police. Watson closed his eyes tight but no explosion came when the counter finished. Sherlock sounded as if he was crying however he was laughing. Watson opened his eyes and checked his body before turning and realizing that Sherlock was laughing. His face curled in confusion and he turned to look at the countdown clock. It kept switching back and forth between 1:28 to 1:29.

"You…" Watson frowned, pointing a finger at him. Sherlock stood, he was laughing so hard he was crying. It was a catharsis he needed and for the moment it helped.

"Oh! Your face!" Sherlock continued to laugh. "I totally had you."

"You… I knew it! I knew it! You f…" Watson snapped, embarrassed because he had gotten real with Sherlock about how upset he was.

"Oh, those things you said, such sweet things! I never knew you cared!" Sherlock spoke, it made him feel better.

"I _will_ kill you if you ever breathe a word of this!" Watson snapped. Sherlock giggled and raised his hand in a salute.

"Scout's honour," Sherlock smirked.

"You knew!?" Watson suddenly continued. "You knew how to turn it off!" Sherlock smirked.

"There's always an off switch," Sherlock smirked, Watson bent down to study the bomb. "Terrorists can get into all sorts of problems unless there's an Off switch." Suddenly the sound of footsteps broke their concentration.

"And you did call the police?" Watson snapped. Sherlock nodded. "I'm definitely going to kill you," Sherlock smirked.

"Oh please, kill me? That's so two years ago." Sherlock spoke.

* * *

Mycroft had arrived at Céline's home. They were having tea and wrapping up a game of chess. He had been over for a few hours and when Céline won the game he nervously stood.

"Well, perhaps I should go home," Mycroft spoke, taking a final sip of tea. He went to stand but as he did Céline took his arm.

"Mycroft…" She began, trailing off nervously. Mycroft watched her for a second taking in how she was feeling. He sat back down.

"Yes?" Mycroft asked, his breath halting in his throat. She kept her gaze on the chessboard for a long time. Before looking over her shoulder out the window. When she felt safe to she leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Mycroft quickly returned it. When they pulled away their foreheads were pressed together and they stayed close.

"Stay," Céline spoke. It wasn't a question, it was an order. Mycroft nodded and kissed her again, taking her into his arms.

* * *

The next morning Céline and Mycroft were both fast asleep. Their clothes were all over the floor. Mycroft woke before Céline. He took great care to slowly sit up and check his phone. He was about to text his assistant to move his meetings so he could spend more time with Céline that morning but he was taken aback to see eight missed calls from her and four messages. He frowned and quickly checked them. His face curled in confusion.

 _Mycroft please pick up it's important._

 _I hate to keep reaching out like this but it's important._

 _An important client is asking for a meeting this afternoon._

 _Magnussen wants to talk. Call back._


	62. The Empty Hearse 10

Mycroft set the phone down on the side table and settled onto the bed again. His mind was racing. Magnussen. He was confused at the sudden reach out. He had been planning with his team for weeks a takedown of the newspaper tycoon and was worried that Magnussen had caught on. Céline stirred a bit when he settled back down and pulled her close.

"Mycroft?" She softly asked, rubbing her eyes.

"I was hoping to stay longer but I have to go into work." Mycroft softly spoke, kissing her forehead. "I'll be back this evening."

* * *

When Mycroft got into work his assistant looked shaken. Mycroft took a mental note of it and frowned.

"What did Magnussen say?" Mycroft asked, approaching her. She shuddered and just pointed to his office.

"He's waiting for you." She spoke, keeping her tone of voice low. Mycroft's face curled in confusion.

"He's waiting for me in my office?" Mycroft asked, annoyed. She nodded. Mycroft scoffed and entered his office, shutting the door behind him. Magnussen didn't move or perk up when he did. He was sitting in a chair across from Mycroft's desk waiting for him. Mycroft passed him and sat down, sizing him up. Magnussen was calmly reading the newspaper that Mycroft's assistant laid out for him on his desk daily. Magnussen was on guard and didn't give Mycroft much to assess.

"Is this an urgent matter?" Mycroft finally spoke. Magnussen continued reading for a moment, letting the statement hang in the air before folding the paper back up and looking at Mycroft.

"I heard you were planning on taking away my protection and I wanted to come and clear up this misunderstanding." Magnussen calmly spoke. Mycroft noticed his eyes go dead but something felt off about it. As he thought of what to say he saw that Magnussen did not have dead eyes, he appeared to be reading something. A smirk etched itself onto the newspaper tycoon's face.

 _Mycroft Holmes_

 _Status: Of Intrest_

 _Brother: Sherlock Holmes (See File)_

 _Sister: Eurus Holmes (See File)_

 _Pressure Points:_

 _Sherlock Holmes (See File)_

 _Sibling Rivalry_

 _British Government_

 _Céline Josephine Brown (See File)_

"What's so funny?" Mycroft asked. Magnussen reread the list of pressure points. It amused him. The last time he had seen Mycroft in person was just before Sherlock had been declared "dead" and back then Mycroft's list of pressure points did not include Céline. Magnussen knew that the two had finally consummated their relationship but he was happy to see it held emotional weight for Mycroft now. He had prepared Mycroft's blackmail so that it hit to the core of each of his pressure points.

"The mere thought that you would consider.." Magnussen trailed off, thinking of a better way to phrase his thoughts. "The mere notion that you would entertain the idea of cutting me off from government protection." Mycroft let out a sigh.

"Magnussen. To be frank, the British government does not want to work with a psychopath." Mycroft bluntly spoke, he was frustrated at this confrontation. Magnussen let the statement hang in the air. Mycroft continued. "We don't want to entertain someone in this for his own interest over the interests of the state."

"Britain is not my home." Magnussen simply spoke. Mycroft shrugged.

"Perhaps this is better for you then," Mycroft suggested. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work…"

"I have an offer." Magnussen cut Mycroft off. Mycroft frowned.

"I am not interested in your offer..." Mycroft flatly spoke. Magnussen shifted in his seat as Mycroft spoke to retrieve his cell phone. It was time for pressure point one of his plan, Céline Josephine Brown. Before Mycroft could finish the sentence Magnussen began to play an audio recording. The recording was of Mycroft and Céline the previous evening while they made love. Mycroft's face fell as the moans of pleasure filled the room. Magnussen watched him closely and after a moment stopped playing the recording. "How did you get that?" Mycroft asked, his voice slightly halting in his throat.

"A temporary phone hack, don't worry about me doing it again. I have more than enough…Although, the full audio recording was a delight to listen to." Magnussen spoke a slimy smirk etching itself onto his face. Mycroft kept his demeanor calm but his mind was rushing.

"You will not threaten her with anything." Mycroft snapped.

"I hadn't thought of it." Magnussen shrugged. "But, I kept ruminating last night as I listened to the recording. How good was she? It sounds delightful." Magnussen began to play the recording again and Mycroft kept his jaw tightly clenched, he was angry. Magnussen noticed this and moved to number two, sibling rivalry. As the audio recording of Céline and Mycroft's lovemaking continued to play Magnussen stood and set the phone on Mycroft's desk in front of him. Magnussen then moved to pace Mycroft's office, taking his time and letting the sounds of heavy breathing and moaning fill the room. "I couldn't help but think as I listened to this, what must it be like to steal your own brother's lover?" Mycroft was at a loss for words and thickly swallowed. He had been greatly caught off guard.

"I didn't steal her…" Mycroft snapped but before he could say anything else Magnussen cut him off for number three, the British Government.

"The British Government talks about me from its glass house. I for one could never dream of fucking my own brother's…slag as you British people say." Magnussen spoke, waltzing over to Mycroft's desk and grabbing his phone back. He paused the recording and sat back down. "The British Government stands behind you and that behavior. Why not stand behind me?" Mycroft was visually disturbed. His eyes were locked onto the table, his mind racing for what to do. He was deeply upset by this moment, for once in his life he didn't know what to do. Mycroft felt helpless. Magnussen was delighted, he had broken him down to where he needed to be. Magnussen knew Sherlock was on his trail for tossing Céline in the bonfire and didn't want to lose this protection. He finally moved to the next phase and most impactful pressure point, Sherlock Holmes.

"Your brother will be after me soon and I demand your protection or I can guarantee that this recording will go to him," Magnussen spoke, lowering his tone to a threat. "Look at me." Magnussen snapped, Mycroft slowly turned his eyes up and made eye contact with the newspaper tycoon.

"You know Sherlock Holmes. You know what this would do to your brother. Don't you?" Magnussen spoke, keeping his voice low and soft. Mycroft nodded, defeated. "It's funny isn't it, that you and your brother preach about how the world around you is full of idiotic cretins. Yet, you both are laying claim to a normal woman. Mycroft, I would guess that despite the danger it poses that you will return to Céline this evening and make love to her once more won't you? You won't let her go. Will you?" Magnussen spoke. Mycroft watched him for a long moment and didn't answer, but his face told Magnussen all he needed to know. "I guess once a simple man has a taste of the apple in the garden of Eden he can't go back." Magnussen stood and went to the door.

"I look forward to confirmation this evening that I am fully protected. I will leave my list of requests with your assistant." Magnussen spoke before leaving Mycroft's office.

* * *

And with that, we are done with "The Empty Hearse" puddin's! Stay tuned for the first chapter of "A Sign of Three" coming soon!


	63. A Sign of Three 1

Céline was getting ready for class in the bathroom and Mycroft was fast asleep in bed. They had not moved in together but Mycroft found himself staying with her a few times a week when he was able. It worked well because in the new semester at school Céline had taken on teaching another introduction class that started right at 8 am every day of the week. As she got ready her thoughts were drifting to that afternoon. She was supposed to go dress shopping with Mary. When Mary invited her she broke some news over the phone. Sherlock would be Watson's best man. Céline could understand the two men becoming close again. Once more they solved crimes together. While not as frequent, she had been aware of it. Since she had blocked him Sherlock had not reached out again. However, she still struggled with everything that had gone on despite her new relationship with Mycroft. She struggled with missing Sherlock. Her train of thought was suddenly broken when Mycroft's alarm went off. She giggled a bit when she heard him groan with annoyance. A few moments later he had joined her and hugged her from behind.

"I won't be able to come back over for a couple of days." Mycroft groggily spoke, kissing her cheek.

"That's fine," Céline replied. "Mary needed me to help with wedding prep anyway." Mycroft nodded and went to take a quick shower. As he got in Céline went back to getting ready. After a few minutes of thinking, she spoke up,

"You know, they would love for you to go," Céline spoke over the water. She was hopeful that Mycroft would come to the wedding, even if they didn't show any sign they were together. Early on they had both decided to keep their relationship a secret, from everyone. It was far more strict for both Céline and Mycroft than it had been years before when Céline and Sherlock were together. This decision was something Céline pushed. Knowing full well that Sherlock would not take the news of their relationship well. Mycroft had agreed. However, he had not told her about his meeting with Magnussen. It had been almost six months since the meeting.

"Who? Mary and John?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes," Céline replied. "We can sit at two different tables. We can pretend." Céline replied. Mycroft finished his shower and toweled off, wrapping the towel around his waist. He cupped her cheek and kissed her.

"I don't know if I can pretend that well." Mycroft softly spoke.

* * *

Sherlock was pacing his room, the room was filled with smoke. Heavy bags were under his eyes. He and Watson had finished a case the previous evening. Sherlock hated finishing cases. The night after, since his brain wasn't occupied with the case, it went to all the repressed emotions he had. The guilt and pain. He had lost Céline due to his own actions and his regret hit a chord deep inside of him. It had kept him up all night. He looked at his phone for a long moment, considering dialing her. But he decided not to. He rubbed his eyes and tried to think of something else when it hit. Watson had asked him to be his best man. Sherlock rushed to the living room and began to think about what to write for his speech. It served as a wonderful distraction.

* * *

After class Céline met Mary at a bridal shop. On her lunch between classes earlier that day John had called and made Céline promise that she would make Mary pick the dress she wanted without compromise. Céline was waiting as Mary was in the changing room. They were on the sixth dress. When Mary came out she was in a big ballgown. Mary shot Céline an uncomfortable look and Céline giggled, taking a sip of champagne. Mary went to the mirror and looked it over, a mortified expression on her face.

"It's a no again, isn't it?" Mary asked Céline, turning her head to look at her friend. Céline nodded in agreement, studying the dress.

"It's a bit too Disney princess." Céline teased.

"Yeah, I'm a bit past my prime to be Snow White aren't I?" Mary spoke, turning back to the mirror and studying the big billowy dress. "At this rate, I don't think I'll find one, maybe we should throw in the towel?" Mary suggested. The entire dress hunt had made her anxious. She wasn't used to dressing herself up for special events.

"No! We can't give up now!" Céline spoke, getting up from her seat to approach the racks of dresses around them. "What do you want?"

"A dress." Mary teasingly remarked, waddling over to where Céline was looking. Céline shot Mary an eyebrow perk, giggling.

"Duh, you want a dress." Céline giggled, "What kind of dress?" Mary thought about the question. But caught a glimpse of the price tag of the rack.

"Céline…these are a bit…" Mary began.

"Mary. Morstan." Céline scolded. "Just pick one. Trust me." Mary could see that her friend was being serious so she picked a dress that caught her eye. Mary sent Céline a guilty look before disappearing into the changing room with the saleswoman. Céline heard her phone buzz and checked it. It was a text from Mycroft.

 _I can't spend the night, but what about dinner?_

Céline smirked and replied back.

 _Sure, Mary and I will be finishing up in the next hour._

Mycroft replied without a second to spare.

 _I'll pick you up at your apartment._

Before Céline could reply she heard some shuffling and looked up. Mary had entered in the most beautiful long wedding dress with a lace top with jewels adorning it.

"It's over budget," Mary spoke, clearly in love with the dress.

"It's beautiful." Céline corrected, smiling. Mary gave her a sad look.

"I don't want to look." Mary sadly spoke. Céline laughed and brought her a drink.

"Drink this and look." Mary gave her an amused look but turned down the drink.

"No, you're right I'll look," Mary spoke, giving in. She stood in front of the mirrors and brought her hands to her chest. "Oh gosh, it's beautiful." Mary dreamily spoke, turning to look from all angles.

"Is it the one?" Céline asked, standing beside Mary. Mary shot her a look.

"I can't be the one it's too expensive," Mary replied sternly. Céline gave her a smirk.

"It's not too expensive for a University Professor with a savings account." Céline winked. She turned to the attendant. "We'll take this one." Mary took her arm.

"Céline! I won't let you!" Mary snapped. The saleswoman looked between the two women not sure what to do.

"We will take it," Céline spoke sternly, she got away from Mary's grasp and retrieved her bank card to pass to the saleswoman. When the woman left Mary crossed her arms.

"Are you sure?" Mary asked, a serious tone of voice.

"I'm positive." Céline smiled. Mary teared up and embraced her.

"Thank you so much," Mary spoke.

* * *

After wrapping up Céline and Mary were waiting for a taxi.

"Céline, I'm sorry again," Mary spoke, sticking her hands in her pockets.

"Mary, I told you the dress was nothing…." Céline began but Mary cut her off.

"No, about Sherlock. I tried to talk to John about it but…" Mary tried to explain.

"Mary, it's you and John's wedding. I want it to be what both of you want. Sherlock and John are best friends. It's fine, really. I'll be ok." Céline replied. Mary let it hang in the air for a moment.

"Alright, but if you need to leave early. I won't hold it against you." Mary spoke.

"Thank you, Mary." Céline smiled.

"One last question then, since you're fine attending." Mary nervously spoke.

"Yes?" Céline asked.

"Will you be my maid of honor?" Mary asked. Céline had her breath taken away and just stared at Mary. She had never dreamed of having a friend ask her to be something so important. Tears filled her eyes.

"Really?" Céline asked. "You want me to be your maid of honor?"

"Of course, you're my best friend." Mary smiled. Céline hugged her friend.

"I would be honored," Céline replied. Mary nodded gratefully and a taxi finally came by. Céline flagged it for her.

"I'll call you tomorrow. We can talk about the details?" Mary suggested. Céline nodded and waved goodbye to her friend before walking toward her flat. It was close to the dress shop. When she approached Mycroft was waiting for her on the sidewalk in front of her flat. Céline felt a smile on her lips when she saw him. The sun was just starting to set.

"Well, hello there." Céline smiled. Mycroft kissed her on the cheek and took her hand.

"Thank you for accepting my last-minute invitation," Mycroft replied. Céline blushed and shrugged.

"I had some time to pencil you in." She teased. Mycroft chuckled and the two went to dinner. They didn't talk about the wedding, they just talked about and debated some decisions in parliament that went through the previous day. When they returned to her flat after dinner both hesitated at the door. "So, you can't stay the night?" Céline flirtily spoke. Mycroft's gaze softened a bit.

"Well…I have to be at work early." He spoke. "Very important."

"Ah…well, how about coming up for a few minutes. Maybe a cup of tea?" Céline suggested, softening her eyes and softly biting her lip because she knew it always worked on Mycroft.

"Now that you mention it, I'd love some tea." Mycroft chuckled, letting her lead him upstairs.


	64. A Sign of Three 2

Thank you all for all the amazing feedback. I know it's a bit of a new direction for the story but I promise things will keep getting interesting! Will Céline and Sherlock ever recover!? I'm glad you all are liking it so far! xoxo! Stay safe!

* * *

Mycroft found it hard to resist and after making love he fell asleep with Céline. The next morning he woke early, when he needed to, and gently got out of bed so he wouldn't wake her up. As he prepared to leave he couldn't help but watch her for a moment. She was beautiful. Her face was so peaceful. All he wanted was to crawl back into bed with her. After a moment of reflection, it sunk in. He loved her. The feeling was certain in his mind and he gave himself a moment to process it. Before he left he scribbled a small note and kissed her forehead.

* * *

When Céline woke up she felt around for Mycroft but to her dismay, he had left hours ago. She turned in bed sadly but she caught a glimpse of a small piece of paper neatly folded on her side table. Half asleep, she reached over and grabbed it. Unraveling it.

 _I love you. I'll see you again in a few days._

Céline started at the paper for a long moment, re-reading it over and over. Tears filled her eyes and she pulled her pillow close to cuddle it as she read the note again. It was overwhelming.

It had taken Sherlock her almost leaving him for how he treated the situation with Irene to even verbalize how much he cared. She thought that was normal. Céline hadn't expected a declaration of love in such normal circumstances. Tears of joy and excitement overflowed and for a long while, she cried in bed. Unsure of how to feel. Pressure had been lifted from her spirit. She had been afraid that Mycroft would eventually leave her for a more interesting career prospect or not realize they had anything special until she was about to leave because she was emotionally exhausted. But he just was content with her. He was happy with her and didn't need her to convince him of it to verbalize it. Eventually, Céline got ahold of herself and got up to take a shower and get ready for the day.

* * *

Mary was waiting for Céline at a nearby cafe. When Céline got there the two women embraced and went to the counter to order. Mary noticed that there was a tone around Céline that morning. For months there had been lingering sad feeling despite Céline's best efforts to hide it but today it was gone. Mary made a mental note to ask her about it. But they quickly dove into wedding planning. Mary had tasked Watson and Sherlock to create the seating arrangement. She told Watson to keep Céline's name off of the seating chart, as to not cause any undue drama. But it was a little less successful than anticipated.

* * *

Sherlock and Watson were just about done, they had laid out most of the family and guests but to Watson's dismay. The question came up.

"Where is Céline sitting?" Sherlock suddenly asked, after looking over all of the seating charts. He took a quick glance over at Watson. Watson had an uncomfortable look on his face.

"Umm..what do you mean?" Watson finally spoke. Sherlock rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, slightly upset.

"Mary told you to leave her off didn't she?" Sherlock frowned. Watson stuttered.

"No, what do you mean?" Watson spoke, unconvincingly.

"I assume Céline will be attending." Sherlock pressed, turning toward Watson. Watson scratched his head nervously as Sherlock loomed over him.

"Yes." Watson finally spoke, under his breath.

"What?" Sherlock quickly spoke.

"Yes! Sherlock, yes. Céline is attending. She's Mary's Maid of Honor." Watson finally answered. Sherlock crossed his arms.

"Oh…" Sherlock replied, turning back to the seating chart. Sherlock and Céline would be walking down the aisle together during the ceremony. Sherlock's mind was racing. "Well…how…."

"Céline isn't coming to rehearsal and she already agreed to walk down with you for the ceremony." Watson cut him off, replying to the question he knew Céline would ask. "She's doing it for Mary and I."

"Oh…" Sherlock repeated. His mind was racing, thinking of different ways it would go. An awkward silence filled the room for a long minute. "How is she?"

"Fine." Watson briefly answered. Sherlock nodded.

"Is she bringing a date?" Sherlock pressed.

"No." Watson briefly answered again. Sherlock nodded again.

"Good," Sherlock replied, suddenly feeling nerves in his stomach.

* * *

"So, I have to ask." Mary finally spoke. Her and Céline had finished most of the planning and ordering for the final day.

"Ask what?" Céline replied, taking a final sip of her coffee.

"You've had an aura about you today. I was just…wondering about it." Mary observed, studying her friend closely. Céline turned bright red. Turning her eyes down and trying to hide an earnest smile.

"I don't know what you mean," Céline spoke, trying to hide her excitement.

"Something tells me you do." Mary teased, "You can trust me." Céline looked up at her, opening her mouth to say something before losing words to say.

"I don't know how to tell you," Céline spoke. "It's a…an odd situation."

"Do you want to bring someone to the wedding?" Mary asked, a smirk on her face. Céline giggled and covered her face as she flushed a deeper shade of red. She shook her head.

"I want to but I can't," Céline spoke, trying to beat around the bush so she could decide if she would tell Mary.

"What do you mean you can't? Sherlock may be a bit of a knob but…" Mary began.

"If I tell you Mary I need you to promise me you won't tell anyone. Even John." Céline suddenly spoke, getting serious. Mary could hear how important that was and nodded, placing her hand on her chest.

"Hand on my heart," Mary spoke. Céline nodded and looked at the table, taking a deep breath.

"I've been seeing Mycroft. He said 'I love you this morning.'" Céline spoke, her voice low. She studied her friend, expecting judgment but Mary's face lit up.

"What!?" Mary exclaimed, excited. Céline bit her lip to hold back a smile and nodded.

"Yeah…" Céline managed to speak.

"Céline, that's wonderful news. It's safe with me." Mary assured her, taking her friend's hands.

"Thank you." Céline replied, squeezing Mary's hands. "Just, part of me is so afraid. Mycroft and I agreed to keep it secret but…you know how Sherlock is. It's a matter of time and I don't know how he'll act when he finds out…"

"Hey, that's not your responsibility. Sherlock didn't ask himself the same thing when Molly threw herself him." Mary spoke. Céline nodded.

"I guess so.." She trailed off. "But anyway. I'm glad the wedding is ready."

"It doesn't even feel like it's next weekend." Mary sigh, the time left sinking in. Céline gigged.

"Well, it is. Are you ready?" Céline asked. Mary set a hand on her stomach.

"I think I am ready." Mary smiled.


	65. A Sign of Three 3

The morning of the wedding came quickly. Céline was getting ready, she had just gotten off the phone with Mycroft. He wouldn't be coming, he had work. It disappointed her but she knew it was for the best. As she curled her hair she was shaking so bad that she accidentally burned her hand. Céline hissed and dropped the curling iron on the counter before rushing to start the cold water in the sink to help the burn. She was nervous. She knew Sherlock would be there and it would be the first time they saw each other since the night he came to see her in the hospital. After the burn began to become a tender red mark she opened her medicine cabinet to take her PTSD medication, she hadn't taken it yet that morning and was hoping it would help.

* * *

Sherlock was pacing around the living room. He had spent most of the morning practicing for John and Mary's first waltz. It took his mind off the fact that he was going to see her and he didn't know what to do. He was stubborn, in his mind he was trying to convince himself that he really hadn't hurt her. Hoping deep down that there would be a reconciliation. Behind him, Mrs. Hudson was making tea in the kitchen. She was already dressed for the wedding.

"Shut up, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock suddenly snapped.

"I haven't said a word!" Mrs. Hudson nervously snapped back. Sherlock turned toward her and crossed his arms.

"You're formulating a question. It's physically painful watching you thinking." Sherlock snapped, on edge. Mrs. Hudson frowned.

"Someone's in a mood. I know Céline will be there but don't forget this is for Mary and John!" Mrs. Hudson scolded.

"Shut up." Sherlock groaned, turning back toward the windows.

"She's Mary's maid of honor right?" Mrs. Hudson asked. Sherlock was getting more annoyed and began to pace back and forth.

"Yes, she'll be there promptly at the start of the ceremony and I am not to talk with her as we go down the aisle for the affair. Watson already told me." Sherlock snapped. Watson had given Sherlock a list of rules to follow as to not make Céline uncomfortable.

"You're mother has a lot to answer for." Mrs. Hudson shook her head, setting down Sherlock's tea on the desk in the room.

"I know. I have a list. Mycroft has a file." Sherlock replied, taking the tea and sipping it. There was a bit of a pause between them.

"It changes people, marriage." Mrs. Hudson finally spoke up. Sherlock quickly.

"No, it doesn't. It's not even a big deal. Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday and then carry on living together. What's life-changing about that?" Sherlock bitterly retorted.

"Well, you wouldn't understand 'cause you always live alone. Especially since Céline wouldn't have you back." Mrs. Hudson shrugged, retorting back. Sherlock tensed up.

"Your husband was executed for double murder. You're hardly an advert for companionship." Sherlock snapped.

* * *

On the way to the venue, Céline was on the phone with Mary. She had finished getting ready and was on her way. Mary was talking a mile a minute with nerves and Céline was lending an ear to the bride. When she got to the church she snuck back to where Mary was waiting with the other bridesmaids. Céline quickly noticed a new woman who shot her a dirty look as she walked in. Céline was uncomfortable but decided it was the tension of the event. Mary embraced Céline when she saw her.

"Mary! You look beautiful!" Céline exclaimed, hugging her friend tightly. "That dress was perfect." Mary thanked her, tears in her eyes before the new woman cleared her throat on the other side of the room. "Oh! Céline! I wanted you to meet Janine!"

"Hello!" Céline smiled offering a hand. Janine took it and gave a fake smile.

"Pleasure. You're the one who was with Sherlock right?" Janine asked.

"Er-yes…awhile back," Céline responded. Before Janine could speak again Mary sensed the tension and broke it with some champagne glasses.

"Come on girls! Let's toast!" Mary exclaimed. The women all toasted and a clock chime signaled the top of the hour and just a few minutes to the ceremony starting.

* * *

Céline was nervously chewing at her thumbnail. The ceremony had begun and all the guests were seated. Her stomach felt sick and her heart was pounding in her ears. Janine was watching her and rolled her eyes before starting the bridal train. Watson's first groomsman and Mary's first bridesmaid began walking, the orchestral music filling the church. Céline got more and more nervous as the second and third bridesmaid's disappeared and suddenly it was her turn. On her cue, Céline stepped out into the aisle. Her and Sherlock immediately locked eyes. When they met in the middle they took each other's arms. Both of them were tense and nervous. Sherlock was caught off guard and how beautiful she looked in the purple bridesmaid dress. Céline kept her eyes on the floor. She didn't want to look at him. She was afraid that somehow he would learn everything that she sought to keep secret. When they got up the aisle they both separated into their groups and Mary stepped out to walk the aisle for the ceremony. Janine watched them both. During the ceremony, the two would catch each other's gaze from across the aisle. Céline seemed uncomfortable. Sherlock seemed sad, but Janine thought he was cute. Tall, dark, and handsome. She was delighted to see the immense discomfort between the two and was hoping to use it to her advantage.

When the ceremony was over Sherlock and Céline put on excitement for their friend's union. Trying to ignore each other. During photos, they didn't take a photograph together like The Maid of Honor and Best Man usually did. Janine took the opportunity to ask him for a photograph and he disdainfully agreed to appease Watson. After the photograph was snapped Sherlock began to walk away to get to a good vantage point far enough from Céline so she was comfortable and close enough to make sure no men made passes at her but to his dismay Janine followed.

"So you're the famous Mr. Holmes! I'm very pleased to meet you. But no sex, okay?" Janine boldly spoke. This stopped Sherlock in his tracks and he gave her a startled glance.

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock spoke up, confused. Janine giggled and elbowed him.

"You don't have to look so scared. I'm only messing. Bridesmaid, best man ... It's a bit traditional." She replied. Sherlock perked an eyebrow and brushed her off, watching as Céline and Mrs. Hudson talked.

"Is it?" Sherlock flippantly spoke as he focused his attention away from Janine and toward Céline.

"But not obligatory." Janine pressed with a flirty tone. Sherlock gave her a side glance.

"If that's the sort of thing you're looking for the man over there in blue is your best bet. Recently divorced doctor with a ginger cat, a barn conversion, and a history of erectile dysfunction." Sherlock quickly replied, trying to get her out of his hair. After speaking Sherlock walked away but he was caught up by Watson who stopped him.

"Remember what I said about the reception." Watson wanted.

"No contact, stay five feet away," Sherlock replied. Watson nodded and patted his friends back before going to talk with some of the other guests.

* * *

When the reception started Céline spent most of the time sitting in the back of the room, small talking with Mrs. Hudson. She was exceedingly nervous about the entire event. Céline wasn't a very outgoing person and found herself feeling drained. She noticed Janine's advances on Sherlock from afar and it was starting to upset her but it also clarified Janine's coldness toward her. Over about an hour her and Mrs. Hudson's conversation became Mrs. Hudson talking to her and Céline's ears ringing. After she had had enough she politely excused herself from Mrs. Hudson and hurried to the bathroom. Sherlock immediately perked up and noticed when Céline rushed to the restroom. He knew she was having a bit of a panic from the crowd and frowned, wandering nearer to the bathroom so he could be there if anything bad happened. Céline locked herself into one of the stalls and sunk to the floor. Her heart was racing and she brought her hands to her face, her breathing shaky.

"This is your friend's wedding, get a grip." Céline softly spoke to herself. Her phone vibrated and she took it out of her bra to check who it was, it was Mycroft.

 _How is it going?_

Céline called him and he quickly picked up.

"Céline?" Mycroft asked, confused.

"I don't know. I'm so anxious." Céline suddenly blurted out. "I wish you were here."

"I'm sorry, Céline. I had to work." Mycroft spoke. There was a pause. "Is it him?"

"Kind of." Céline softly spoke. She rubbed her eyes. "I don't know what to do, I feel like I can't go back out there."

"Céline…" Mycroft sadly spoke, regretting going to work. His real reason for not attending was that he was certain that a couple of moments around Céline would be enough for Sherlock to deduce their status. If Magnussen could see the soft spot she had become for him there was nothing holding Sherlock back. "Come on, you can do this. Did you take your prescription this morning?"

"Yes," Céline replied. She heard a call for food play over the intercom of the reception hall and rubbed her eyes, knowing this meant that the best man speech was coming soon. "Ok, I'm going to try and go back out there." Céline softly spoke. Mycroft paused on the line.

"I love you. I'll come by this evening." Mycroft softly spoke.

"Alright, I love you too," Céline replied before hanging up. When they got off the line Mycroft began to work out on a treadmill he had in the office. Céline stood and went to the sink, splashing her face a couple of times before leaving the bathroom. When Sherlock saw she was safely back at the party he felt better. Céline went to talk with Mrs. Hudson once more. She was feeling a lot better after taking a moment in the bathroom to calm down and her anxiety subsided as she and Mrs. Hudson talked. Sherlock putzed around the party for a while but was feeling neglected when John spent most of the time visiting with other men that he was friends with. This led Sherlock to wander outside. He called Mycroft. To his dismay, Mycroft ignored his first call. Sherlock called again and after the second try, Mycroft answered.

 _"_ Yes, what, Sherlock?" Mycroft answered. He had been working out and didn't want to be annoyed by his brother.

"Why are you out of breath?" Sherlock asked, curious.

"Filing." Mycroft snapped, wiping sweat from his brow and hanging his towel from one of the armrests of the treadmill.

"Either I've caught you in a compromising position or you've been working out again. I favor the latter." Sherlock pressed. Mycroft frowned.

"What do you want?" He asked.

"I need your answer, Mycroft, as a matter of urgency." Sherlock snapped. Mycroft felt his stomach flop, his mind racing as to what Sherlock meant. He was trying to stay impartial. It couldn't be about Céline. He had taken steps to avoid it.

"Answer?" Mycroft asked innocently.

"Even at the eleventh hour it's not too late, you know," Sherlock spoke. Mycroft groaned.

"Oh lord." He snapped. If he was going to deny coming to Céline there was no way he would accept Sherlock asking.

"Cars can be ordered, private jets commandeered," Sherlock suggested. He wanted someone else there to talk to and to distract him, but little did he know that what kept Mycroft away was his relationship with Céline.

"Today. It's today, isn't it? No, Sherlock, I will not be coming to the "night do," as you so poetically put it." Mycroft spoke, pretending to have forgotten the wedding was today.

"What a shame. Mary and John will be extremely d…" Sherlock began.

"...delighted not to have me hanging around." Mycroft finished, thinking of the drama that would ensue if he and Céline were found out.

"Oh, I don't know. There should always be a specter at the feast." Sherlock suggested. Mycroft decided to change the subject.

"So, this is it, then. The big day. I suppose I'll be seeing a lot more of you from now on." Mycroft suggested.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock defensively asked. "I don't understand."

"Well, it's the end of an era, isn't it? John and Mary, domestic bliss." Mycroft suggested. Sherlock frowned.

"I prefer to think of it as the beginning of a new chapter," Sherlock responded, prompting a long silence from Mycroft.

"What?" Sherlock snapped, unable to stand the silent judgment.

"Nothing," Mycroft responded.

"I know that silence. What?" Sherlock pressed, annoyed.

 _"_ _W_ ell, I'd better let you get back to it. You have a big speech or something, don't you?" Mycroft spoke, wanting to get back to work.

" _What_?" Sherlock continued to press, asking about the silence once more.

"Cake, karaoke...mingling," Mycroft spoke, disdain in his tone.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock snapped.

"This is what people do, Sherlock, they get married. I warned you, don't get involved." Mycroft finally replied.

"Involved? I'm not involved." Sherlock huffed.

"No," Mycroft spoke with a tone of disbelief.

"John asked me to be his best man. How could I say no?" Sherlock snapped, trying to justify himself.

"Absolutely." Mycroft cattily agreed.

"I'm not involved!" Sherlock pressed.

"I believe you! Really, I do! Have a _lovely_ day, and do give the happy couple my best." Mycroft insincerely spoke. He trailed off. Suddenly wanting to ask a question. "Oh, by the way, Sherlock, do you remember Redbeard?"

"I'm not a child anymore Mycroft," Sherlock growled.

"No, of course, you're not. Enjoy not getting involved, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke before hanging up the phone. After he did he sat in silence for a long moment, thinking about what a hypocrite he was.


	66. A Sign of Three 4

After eating had gone on for a bit a waiter clinked a glass.

"Pray silence for the best man." He spoke as the room quieted down. Mary and Céline exchanged a look. Sherlock awkwardly stood and began reading from telegrams that Watson had passed him earlier that day. Céline settled into her seat and focused on the decorations on the back wall. She needed something else to put all of her focus into. She slid her hands onto her knees under the table, she could feel them starting to shake.

"When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused," Sherlock spoke. To Céline, it sounded as if he was underwater. Her focus was ironclad on the decorations so she would get too anxious. His voice brought her back. His presence had that effect, but his voice made it much worse. It brought her back to the promises he broke and the moments that he threw away for a night in Molly Hooper's bed. As her mind raced Sherlock continued. Mary watched Céline in the corner of the eye and could tell her friend was disassociating. Sherlock continued.

"I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was – for me – as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he'd placed in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being...moved by it." Sherlock spoke. Mary was about to lean over to tell Céline it was ok if she had to step out but once Sherlock had finished speaking Céline quietly stood and left the reception hall to sit outside.

"It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud." Sherlock continued, watching her leave from the corner of his eye. All of the other guests didn't really notice, they were engaged with the speech. The only people at the wedding who knew the history were Mrs. Hudson, Mary, and Watson. Céline couldn't take it. She couldn't stand how he was so prideful about his inability to care for others and feel love. It upset her. She knew it was a bold-faced lie. Sherlock cared about his friends more than most but he insisted on this stubborn front. She couldn't sit and listen to him any longer.

* * *

The speech went on for what felt like hours. In reality, it lasted about a half-hour. Céline had been lost in thought about the past, about Mycroft, about Sherlock. She didn't notice when the speech finished. When it was done Mary and John's first dance began, Sherlock played the violin. He was anxious as he played. There was still no sign of Céline. He wondered if she was even still there or if she had left. He decided to check when he was finished, he knew Mary and John would be distracted by other guests.

* * *

Céline was sitting on a bench in front of the reception hall. She gently leaned back against the building. She was still lost in thought and didn't notice when Sherlock wandered out. The time alone had done some good to calm her, her hands weren't shaking anymore and she was relaxed. Sherlock suddenly spoke up and broke her concentration.

"You look well." Sherlock softly spoke, looking down at his feet. Céline jumped and turned to him. She watched him for a moment before looking down at her feet. Sherlock was speaking honestly. She did look well. Her face was bright and her eyes held immense joy where there was once stress. Despite her slight panic toward the beginning of the event, Sherlock could also tell that she had a much better hold on her anxiety. He saw a red mark on her hand. "Are you ok?" Sherlock asked, gesturing to her hand. Céline perked up confused but then saw and quickly hid it away by bringing her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, yeah. I burnt myself this morning." Céline replied. Sherlock nodded and looked at the floor. Céline gulped slightly. "How have you been?" She asked, making small talk.

"Oh, just fine." Sherlock lied without skipping a beat. The quickness with which he said it hurt a bit.

"Oh..." she trailed off. Sherlock could sense that he upset her and it set the hair on the back of his neck on edge. He just wanted her back and began to panic realizing that things were not going to go how he hoped.

"Céline, I don't know what to say. I just, I'm sorry. I should have been better to you, I just don't know how to love you like you need me to. I'm a special case." Sherlock suddenly blurred out. Céline didn't know what to say. She was afraid to tell him about her new relationship. She would keep it anonymous but she feared that he would ask who and she knew she couldn't lie to him. "Céline maybe this break between you and I did some good? Maybe we..." Sherlock began.

Céline pitied him. The old part of her wanted to throw herself back into his arms but she knew that she had to trust him when he said _I just don't know how to love you like you need me to._ It became clear to her that he still wasn't ready to take responsibility for all the hurt he put her through. Without all the details no less. Sherlock continued to ramble about a possible reconciliation but Céline couldn't hear him over the ringing in her ears and without fully thinking of what she was saying she blurted out.

"I'm with someone." Céline's statement was strong and sure. But she kept her eyes on her feet. Tears welted in her eyes just feeling Sherlock's energy shift. The news sunk into Sherlock and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

"How long?" Sherlock asked after a pause.

"About a year." She replied. Sherlock did the math in his head turning sickly pale. Just after he had engaged in sex with Molly. It was his fault she had thrown herself into the arms of another man. Sherlock felt a rush of nausea again and tears filled his eyes.

"Where is he now?" Sherlock asked. Céline felt immense stress at the question.

"He's at home." Céline softly spoke. "We decided it was best that he didn't come."

"I have to go," Sherlock spoke, it was all he could manage before staggering off. Out of the venue, away from Céline, and away from everybody. To his further dismay, Céline didn't even try to stop him. As he took off he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit up. His hand was shaking as he walked and waved down a taxi. When he got in his mind was racing with thoughts of another man's hands on Céline. All of a sudden he took out his phone and sent a text to a number that wasn't saved. It was to set up a morphine drug deal.


	67. A Sign of Three 5

Céline had been in bed for the last hour. When she got home from the wedding she felt emotionally drained. It was as if her short conversation with Sherlock had sucked the life out of her.

 _What if he knows it's Mycroft?_

 _What if he finds out?_

Her mind was racing as she curled into herself more. She was holding a pillow tightly against her chest. She was overwhelmed with sadness but no tears had escaped her eyes. Her focus was so tightly woven to Sherlock that she didn't even hear the door when Mycroft entered.

The second Mycroft stepped into the flat he felt his blood run cold. Something was off. Sherlock, no doubt, had something to do with it. Céline's heels were kicked off near the front door and her coat was laying half on the couch half off. Mycroft took it upon himself to return Céline's heels to the rack beside the door and hang her coat on its hook. After these two tasks, Mycroft paused, feeling upset. He had been partly to blame. Keeping things secret seemed fun and exciting until the reality of it sunk into his skin. But Mycroft's upset stomach turned to anger and frustration. As his mind raced he made his way over to the kettle, putting on a pot of tea. If only Sherlock wasn't so stubborn. Then Céline wouldn't be driving herself crazy protecting Sherlock, a man she was no longer with. A man who no longer had access to her because of his own shortcomings.

* * *

After the tea began warming Mycroft made his way to her. It reminded him of the countless times he would check on her after Sherlock's "death." She would be curled up in the same way, with the same blank look on her face as she wracked her brain for answers she might never get.

"Céline?" Mycroft softly spoke. Céline slightly jumped and sat up. Mycroft's gaze softened as she hazily ran her hand through her hair before turning her head to look at him. Mycroft slowly walked over to kiss her and take a seat beside her. "He called me halfway through," Mycroft spoke. Céline watched him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I told him that I was with someone," Céline replied. "Is that why he called?" She could feel Mycroft's body tense up. He shook his head no and watched her, nervous. "I didn't say I was with you," Céline reassured him, raising her hand to his face. Mycroft let out a relieved sigh before kissing her hand.

"He didn't call about that. He just wanted me to come." Mycroft finally spoke. "What else did he say to you?" Céline shook her head and kissed him deeply as a reply. When they pulled away Mycroft guided her into his lap and they kissed again. Between long passionate kisses, he asked again. "Céline, what did he say to you?" Mycroft breathily asked. Céline shook her head.

"I don't want to think about him anymore." She softly spoke before kissing Mycroft once more. He put a note in the back of his head to find out what he wanted to know. However, he respected her wishes and stopped asking for the time being.

The two went back to their intimacy and soon Céline was below Mycroft. Her dress was off and on the ground, leaving her in only her lingerie. Mycroft's shirt, tie, and pants were loose. Céline had one hand pinned to one side of her head by one of his hands, their fingers were tightly entwined. Her other hand was pinned behind her back as she laid on the bed. While Mycroft's other hand was snugly gripping her neck. It was his favorite way to whisper sweet nothings into her ear. Céline was breathing heavily and her head gently pressed back into the pillow as she playfully struggled against him, wanting him to make love to her. Mycroft's lips left her ear and began to trail down her neck, leaving little kisses and bites as he began whispering more vulgar things to her. Céline's heart was beating fast but before she could beg him to make love to her the kettle went off. She giggled and Mycroft let her go and got up.

"Oh bother." He took off his tie and hung it on the end of the bed before going to turn off the kettle. Céline sat up too, gently putting her hand over where he had held her neck. Her mind was racing. She was in love but felt so guilty about it. It felt wrong but it was the most honest a relationship for her had been up to that point. She felt a shiver go up her spine thinking about Mycroft's whispers. A blush crept up on her cheeks as she thought about what he said in her ear. Mycroft returned after a moment, he went to her side table and lit the candle on it before turning off the light. Céline's guilt slowly disappeared from her mind for the time being. She was distracted by her desire.

"Now where were we?" Mycroft mischievously spoke, grabbing his tie from the end of the bed. He beckoned Céline over to where he stood and she went to him. When she was on her knees on the bed she was almost as tall as him. Mycroft kissed her from where he stood. As they kissed he whispered in her ear. "Give me your hands." Céline blushed and did as he said. Mycroft tied her hands above her head before tossing her on the bed. Céline loved every second of it and soon they were in the midst of making love.

When they had finished Mycroft untied Céline and wrapped her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest, her breath still heavy. Mycroft kissed the top of her head.

"I love you." He breathily spoke, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his brow. Céline blushed and smiled.

"I love you too, Mycroft." She softly spoke.

* * *

In another place, Sherlock was settling in. He was taking up residence at a local crack house. In his pocket, we're two morphine syringes. As Sherlock was preparing his corner of the house he prepared himself to take the dose. He stuck the needle into his skin, ignoring how long it had been. He settled there to forget about Céline and to focus on Magnussen. Sherlock injected himself and his body drunk up the substance. His eyes rolled back in his head and he took a deep breath as he felt his body numb. Carefully, he pulled the needle from his arm and tossed it to the side. His body began to feel weak and he decided to lay down on the small bed he had created. As a shiver of delight ran down his back, his eyes rolled back into his head a second time.

He wanted to forget but all he could think of was her. He wondered what kind of man held her. He wanted to know what was so much better about this other man. However, still hardened and inconsiderate. Sherlock still, in this catatonic drug-induced state could not fathom how he held any responsibility for the collapse of his relationship with Céline. Instead, he felt angry and bitter. Deciding that when his Magnussen journey was over that he would get to the bottom of the mystery man who had Céline's heart.

* * *

The next day Mycroft was dealing with an issue with Magnussen. The newspaper tycoon sat in the chair across from his desk. All morning they had been arguing. The previous evening Magnussen's men had lost track of Sherlock's efforts at exposing the mogul. Magnussen returned to Mycroft to demand better protections. He requested more staff and personal protections. Mycroft denied the request.

"If my brother is missing it's to tend to some stupid self-righteous mission," Mycroft exclaimed. "If Sherlock Holmes is missing, that certainly doesn't mean he's targeting you."

"So is there nothing else I can do to change your mind?" Magnussen spoke, his eyes slightly narrowing in frustration.

"There is not. Call me when Sherlock Holmes shows up again." Mycroft snapped. Magnussen spent a long moment thinking to himself before nodding.

"Alright then…" Magnussen trailed off before curtly standing and leaving.

* * *

That night Céline was spending extra time in her office. She began to get an uneasy feeling in her stomach as the lights dimmed. Mycroft knew not to worry and spent time alone at the apartment, dealing with some paperwork. He had been frustrated by the events of the day but he couldn't do anything if Sherlock was missing. As Mycroft finished the paperwork he begrudgingly dialed his brother but to his dismay, the call went straight to voicemail. Sherlock's phone was off.

Céline, after getting the chills, decided to head back home but unfortunately, she had tuned into her gut far too late. As she locked up her classroom and made her way from the offices to the entrance to the campus building she noticed him, Magnussen. As she walked from her office she messaged Mycroft letting him know that she would soon return so she hadn't seen him. When she did she slightly jumped and stared.

She didn't know yet that it was Magnussen. She only knew him from the brief time he spent sitting in the back of her class. He was seated in an armchair in a nook made for studying. It was near the entrance to the campus building and he perked up as he heard her heels clicking on the tile floor. Céline was taken aback because of the time, usually, no-one was on campus and all the buildings were locked from the outside so she wondered how he got in at this hour.

"Good evening," Magnussen spoke, taking note of her surprise.

"Oh, good evening. Sorry for staring, you just staled me is all…" Céline nervously spoke, blushing a bit. In her head, she assumed he was a donor or an administrator of some sort.

"No, no. I'm the one who's sorry." Magnussen innocently spoke. "I know its a bit of an odd time of night…may I ask what keeps you here so late?" The nervous feeling in her gut began to return.

"Oh, just…paperwork…" She curtly replied, looking toward the door. Magnussen stood and nodded, thinking about what she said and sticking his hands in his pockets. She felt uncomfortable. "May I ask what brings you here?"

"Why don't we discuss that, Céline?" Magnussen spoke. The way he said her name sent a chill down her spine.

"I'm sorry but if you need to talk something administrative can't it wait until the morning…" She quickly spoke. He was slightly taller than her and was far too close for comfort.

"I'm not here for the school." Magnussen looked her up and down, a slimy smirk curling up on his lips. "I'd like to discuss some business. After all, I know you're secret." Céline felt panic in her chest.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand…" She tried to brush it off and took a step past him but he tightly grabbed her upper arm. Céline winced in pain and froze.

"If you don't come with me I will stir up quite a fuss with Mycroft." Magnussen lowered his tone in a threatening manner. Céline struggled and pulled her arm away, grabbing where the man had just held her. She stared at him, waiting for his order. "I believe that this conference room is empty?" Magnussen began walking toward a conference room just across from them and Céline followed. Her head was pounding and her phone was forgotten in her pocket. When they got inside Magnussen shut the door behind her and gestured to the office chair at the head of a table.

"Sit." He snapped. The room was meant for study groups so it was far smaller than a classroom and had no windows. Céline nervously sat. As she did her focus was on the table. Magnussen set his hands on her shoulders and moved close, nuzzling his nose into her hair, breathing in her scent. Céline winced and tried to pull away but Magnussen forcefully pulled her back into his grasp.

"Do you know why I've come to speak to you?" Magnussen asked into her ear. Céline shook her head, tense and uncomfortable. Magnussen turned her in the chair so she was facing him. He loomed over her, his gaze on her body. She was too afraid to move. When she didn't answer he chuckled and brought his hand to the turtleneck she wore. Céline winced once more as he tucked his hands underneath the part that covered her neck and pulled it down, exposing love bites that Mycroft had left behind. Céline's face was bright red. Her mind was racing, going back to the encounter with Jim Moriarty years before. "I see, that's why you dress so modestly." Magnussen chuckled, gently cupping her face and running his thumb along it. Céline wanted him to stop touching her and thankfully he stepped back, pacing in front of her for a long moment.

"What do you want?" Céline finally asked.

"I want you to relay a message," Magnussen replied. "You've caused quite an annoyance for me so it's only natural you deliver it."

"To Mycroft?" She asked. Magnussen nodded.

"Smart girl." He spoke in a mocking tone. "You see, your...intrest in the Holmes brothers has caused a rift no doubt in Mycroft's interest in keeping tabs on Sherlock Holmes." He reached into his pocket as he spoke, retrieving his phone. "Your current lover needs to keep a better eye on his brother or I will release something that will be detrimental to both of you."

"What will you release?" Céline asked, her face curling up in confusion, she decided to lie. "And who are you to even speak to me of Mycroft. We aren't close." Magnussen was on his phone as she talked, seeming disinterested in her lies. Céline turned red and touched her own neck, nervously clutching her turtleneck. "These aren't from him, they're from another man I'm…" Before she could finish Magnussen began playing a file from his phone. The sound file of Mycroft and Céline's first night with each other. As the moans filled the room Céline turned bright red. Her eyes grew wide in shock. Magnussen stepped close again, leaning down to get in her face.

"I suggest you not lie to me and deliver the news of this meeting and my demands to Mycroft." Magnussen threatened in a low voice. Céline felt tears of shame in her eyes.

"Turn that off." She snapped. Magnussen smirked and moved his lips to her ears.

"Why? It sounds like you were having such a lovely time. Was he better than his brother?" Magnussen asked.

"Turn it off. I'll tell him." Céline spoke again through embarrassed tears. "I'll tell him whatever you want me to."

"Good girl," Magnussen spoke. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a list of his demands before setting it on the desk behind her.

"If I don't have a positive response from him by daybreak this recording will find it's way to eager listeners." Magnussen snapped before turning on his heels and leaving. "Have a lovely evening, Céline."


	68. A Sign of Three 6

Here is a bit of a short chapter puddin's! But tomorrow we're starting up with His Last Vow! It will have the return of Sherlock and Molly! What will happen next? Please review and favorite so I know what you think! xoxo

* * *

When Magnussen left, Céline quickly shoved the note of his demands into her pocket and took out her phone. There were two missed calls from Mycroft and a text.

 _Are you ok?_

Céline shakily hurried out of the conference room and out of the campus building. The cold air hit her face and it was like a static shock to her system. Her hands shook but she kept her head down and hurried across the street to her flat. When she got inside Mycroft quickly stood from the work he was doing at the kitchen island.

"Thank goodness, I was worried…" He began before seeing how upset she was. His face fell.

"What did he tell you?" Mycroft asked, walking to her and embracing her. Céline leaned into him and embraced him back, resting her chin on his shoulder. After a moment she pulled back and reached into her pocket.

"He gave me this." She softly spoke, pulling a note out of his pocket. Mycroft took the note and paced while reading it. Céline took off her shoes and coat. "He also had this…"

"The recording," Mycroft spoke. Céline frowned and nodded.

"How did you-" Céline spoke, anger filling her chest. "You didn't take the recording did you?" Mycroft sensed her anger and set the list of demands on the island, shaking his head.

"I didn't take it. He hacked my cellphone." Mycroft spoke. "He's threatened me with it too. I didn't want to drag you into this, I know how much Sherlock dragged you into things and I never wanted that to be the same with us." Céline watched him where he leaned against the island and sigh, rubbing her eyes.

"He said it would go out in the morning if you didn't respond promptly," Céline spoke, she teared up a bit. "I'd appreciate it if you said something to him." Mycroft nodded and picked up his phone. He kissed her forehead before making a call and stepping outside.

/

Céline waited for what felt like hours. As Mycroft was outside she took a shower and changed into her evening clothes. She peeked out and he still wasn't back yet so she blow-dried her hair to help quiet her mind. Once she had finished and was laying out clothes for the following day she heard the door and rushed out. Mycroft set his phone on the countertop and rubbed his eyes.

"You don't have anything to worry about. His requests have been accepted." Mycroft spoke. Céline nodded, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. Mycroft tried to read her but he couldn't get a feel for what she was thinking other than that she was stressed out from the ordeal. He went to her and gently touched her arm. "Do you want me to go?" She shook her head and hugged him.

"He was just like Moriarty," Céline spoke. "He wouldn't stop touching me." She felt Mycroft tense up and he pulled away.

"What do you mean?" Mycroft asked, holding in his anger. "He touched you."

"He just kept touching my neck and my arms and he just wanted to be really close to me." Céline shuddered. Mycroft's eyes wandered to her neck, he knew he had given her marks the previous night but didn't realize how prominent they were.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" Mycroft began. Céline shook her head and set her hand on his chest to quiet him.

"Who is he?" Céline asked.

"His name is Augustus Magnussen. He is a newspaper tycoon and loves blackmailing people for his benefit to keep his sick operation running." Mycroft explained. "If he didn't have that audio recording, Céline, I would…" He trailed off. Céline understood and lowered her eyes.

"He came and sat in my class for a few hours a month or so ago. I just thought he was a school donor or something… I know your work is important Mycroft but what does he want from you? Why is he blackmailing us?" Céline asked. Mycroft rubbed his eyes.

"He wants protection from Sherlock," Mycroft spoke.

"Sherlock?" Céline frowned. "What does Sherlock have to do with…"

"Sherlock likes sticking his nose where it doesn't belong as we both know. Magnussen caught wind of us and…he's using it so I keep Sherlock off of his case." Mycroft spoke. There was a long moment of silence. It made Mycroft uncomfortable. He finally took her hands. "Céline, I…I'm sorry. I just, I wanted to keep you out of this. Every five minutes Sherlock put you in danger and I thought I could be different." He was staring at their hands and wouldn't look at her.

"Mycroft…" She began.

"I told Sherlock when you two were together that he was getting too…involved." Mycroft began. "I believe it was the night Irene's…body double showed up." Céline didn't know what he was trying to tell her but was trying to listen before she jumped to any conclusions. "I had people watching Sherlock and they would tell me how much time you two would spend together holed up in his room and it made me so angry. But I'm just…"

"You're just what?" Céline asked, suddenly full of fear. "What are you trying to tell me, that you're too involved with me now?" Mycroft shook is head and that's when she felt it on their hands. Tears. Mycroft looked up at her, his eyes were full of tears and they were spilling onto his face. She was at a loss for words. Mycroft pulled his hands away and wiped his face, trying to stop the steady flow but he couldn't. He felt so vulnerable and confused.

"I was so angry with him. For constantly putting you in danger, for withholding affection in the way you so clearly needed." Mycroft tried to explain through his tears. "All this time I've been trying to be so above it all but I'm just such a hypocrite. I told him at the wedding how dangerous it was to be involved with John and Molly but then I come home to you every night. Now I have you caught up in this and I'm just sorry. I'm trying to be a better man than he was and I just, I'm the same." Mycroft spoke, choking up at the end of the statement. Céline began to say something but Mycroft kept speaking. "I will not make you stay with me to fulfill my selfish needs Céline if you feel safer or more secure away from this…this life I'm in I will walk away and never come back…" Céline closed the space between them and hugged him tightly before pulling away and sitting up on her toes so she could press her forehead to his.

"Mycroft. You and Sherlock both didn't mean to put me in danger. Sure, Sherlock was more reckless but I am upset with him for the two years and how he ran to Molly instead of trying to fix what he had broken. I'm not upset about the dangers. Mycroft, I'm staying with you because I want to. I love you." Céline sternly spoke. Mycroft nodded before embracing her again, letting his years of pent up emotions out as he cried into her arms, thankful that she had wanted to stay with him. Thankful that she had chosen him.


	69. His Last Vow 1

His Last Vow begins puddin's! I changed a couple of things to elongate the episode. I hope you enjoy xoxo!

* * *

What Mycroft and Céline didn't know was that Sherlock had been contracted to go after Magnussen by Elizabeth Smallwood. She had been apart of a task force that was questioning Magnussen's involvement in the British government but to her dismay, Magnussen targeted her. Lady Smallwood's husband had been having an affair with a fifteen-year-old girl and to prevent it from coming out she had let Magnussen blackmail her and secretly reached out to Sherlock Holmes.

It had been a couple of months since Sherlock had been seen by anyone. He had been spending his time in the drug den, using his homeless network to keep an eye on Magnussen. He wasn't on his best game. Most of his time had been spent using drugs to try and distract himself from the pain that came to him every time he thought about Céline with another man. But his luck at concealing himself would run out quickly.

* * *

John and Mary were fast asleep but it was interrupted by loud banging at the door. Mary groaned and pushed at Watson until he got up to get the door. Mary slowly followed behind him so she could put on her gown. When she caught up to Watson she saw a familiar face, crying just outside the door.

"Is that Kate?" Mary asked, yawning.

"Yeah, it's Kate," Watson spoke. Mary pushed him aside and offered a hand.

"Well let's invite her in," Mary spoke as she led Kate to the sofa. Kate was a mom, the bags under her eyes were pronounced and she continued to cry as Mary tried to comfort her.

 _"_ It's all right." Mary coaxed. Watson disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with tea. As he made the tea Kate explained that her son Issac had gone missing to Mary. Kate had the address she was just nervous about going alone so she came to see if Watson would go and get her son. As Kate explained this Watson offered to go and get him.

* * *

Céline had spent the morning in meetings. She was in the midst of working on getting promoted as a professor and the next step was publishing. Her university had connected her with some publishers and they were eager to get a textbook-like guide to Céline's time as a detective inspector and she agreed to write it. After the meetings, she stopped for her usual coffee and enjoyed it in a small common area on campus. Taking a break before she was supposed to start working on an outline.

* * *

As Wason rushed to the car, determined to go pick up Issac, Mary followed close.

"Seriously?" Mary asked.

"Why not? She's not going to the police. Someone's got to get him." Watson reasoned. Mary smiled and stopped at the gate to their flat.

"Why you?" She asked.

"I'm being neighborly," Watson explained, turning back toward her, smirking slightly.

"Since when?" Mary giggled, narrowing her eyes.

"Since now. Since this exact minute." Watson smiled, kissing her on the cheek before walking toward the car once more. Mary followed.

"John Watson…what's the matter with you?" Mary pressed as they reached the car. Watson laughed and loudly replied.

"There is nothing the matter with me!" Watson shouted before getting quiet. "Imagine I said that without shouting." Mary perked an eyebrow.

"I'm trying." Mary scoffed as she moved to open the passenger's side door.

"No, you can't come. You're pregnant." Watson protested. Mary chuckled.

"You can't _go_. I'm pregnant." Mary quipped back before getting in and shutting the door. Watson sighed and rubbed his eyes before getting into the car. After a short drive, the two found themselves at a small house tucked away with a sign saying.

 _PRIVATE PROPERTY_

 _KEEP OUT_

Watson got out of the car and took a stroll to the front door, knocking on it. A younger kid answered the door.

"What d'you want?" The kid asked, his voice gravelly. Watson excused himself and pushed past him. "Nah, nah, nah you can't come in here!" The kid snapped, following Watson inside the house. Mary watched from the car, frowning. As Watson pressed for Issac's location Mary became lost in thought. At the wedding, she had been sent a letter from Magnussen. He had become aware of her past as an assassin and was threatening her with the information. She had been focusing all her energy at coming up with a way to stop him before her pregnancy put her out of fighting commission.

* * *

Meanwhile, inside the house, after a small fight, Watson got Issac's whereabouts and was kneeling in front of him, they were on the second floor.

"Hello, mate," Watson spoke, moving to gently sit Issac up. _"_ Sit up for me? Sit up." The boy struggled to see who was helping him.

"Doctor Watson?" He finally asked, managing to squint enough to see the doctors face in the dim lighting.

"Yep." Watson frowned, checking him.

"Where am I?" Issac asked.

"The arse-end of the universe with the scum of the Earth. Look at me." Watson spoke under his breath as he continued to check the boy for any injuries.

"Have you come for me?" Issac hopefully spoke. Watson chuckled.

"Do you think I know a lot of people here?!" Watson asked but before he could say anything more the man laying beside Issac rolled over, revealing himself to be Sherlock.

 _"_ Ah, hello John...I didn't expect to see you here." Sherlock spoke before Watson clenched his fist and turned away from Issac. _"_ Did you come for me, too?"

* * *

It felt like only a few minutes had passed. Mary has switched to the driver's seat for comfort and was lost in thought. But she quickly jumped when she noticed Issac stumbling toward the car. She rolled down the window and unlocked the doors.

"Hello, Isaac!" She greeted. Issac seemed flustered.

"Mrs. Watson, can I, can I get in, please?" He shakily asked. Mary nodded and pointed to the backseat. As Isaac got in she looked around and frowned.

"Where's John?" She asked.

"They're havin' a fight." Issac nervously spoke. Before Mary could ask him to clarify Sherlock and Watson emerged from the house.

"For God's sake, John! I'm on a case!" Sherlock shouted at Watson. Mary watched in the rearview mirror as they argued, starting the car so she could drive closer.

"A month, that's all it took. _One."_ Watson growled. The two continued chasing each other around. Sherlock continued trying to explain himself and Watson continued to protest. "Sherlock Holmes in a drug den! How's that gonna look?"Before Sherlock could reply Mary pulled up.

"Both of you in, now." She snapped. Sherlock and Watson exchanged glances but begrudgingly got into the car. Mary watched them get in and frowned when another young kid, the one who answered the door for Watson rushed out of the house too.

"Please. Can _I_ come? I think I've got a broken arm." The kid begged. Mary frowned.

"No, go away!" She shouted, but Watson quickly leaned over to her.

"No, let him," Watson spoke as he took his phone out of his back pocket.

"Why?" Mary asked. Watson gave her a guilty look.

"I may have sprained his arm," Watson spoke. Mary frowned and scoffed, unlocking the car so he could get in.

"Anyone else? I mean, we're taking everybody home, are we?" Mary snapped, getting annoyed. Watson shook his head.

 _"_ We're not going home. We're going to Bart's. I'm calling Molly." Watson spoke, raising his phone to his ear.

"Did we have to bring him there?" Mary snapped, Watson nodded.

"There is no other person who would get us in quicker," Watson spoke. "I texted Molly and she already is preparing the test." Mary scoffed and drove ahead.

"The test?" Mary asked.

"Yes, Sherlock Holmes needs to pee in a jar." Watson snapped.

* * *

About an hour later the crew was gathered in the test lab at St. Bart's. The whole room was uncomfortable. Sherlock was upset. Mary was uncomfortable, Molly was mad at Sherlock and uncomfortable. Watson was angry at the whole situation. Molly was slowly going over the sample when she saw that Sherlock had consumed a high amount of morphine.

"Well? Is he clean?" Watson finally asked to break the uncomfortable silence. Molly tossed her gloves down and walked to Sherlock and slapped him. Everyone exchanged glances as she slapped him a second and third time.

 _"_ How _dare_ you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with!" Molly snapped before lowering her voice. "And how dare you not call me back."

"Sorry that your engagement's over. though I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring." Sherlock snapped coldly.

"Get him out of here. I have other work to do. Get out!" Molly snapped before everyone left. The kid with the sprain stayed behind at the hospital so his parents could come and get him. Issac was dropped off at home and that left Sherlock, Mary, and Watson. Watson stayed completely silent, not speaking to Sherlock. He was driving back an unusual way and Sherlock frowned.

"This isn't the way back…" Sherlock began.

"He's dropping me off at Céline's flat. She and I have plans." Mary snapped. Sherlock got silent and his gaze changed to outside. When they stopped at the flat complex Mary kissed Watson on the cheek and got out. She walked inside the small entryway and made her way up a set of outdoor stairs before Watson drove off. Sherlock stayed silent for a long moment.

"You had better not go stalk her," Watson warned. Sherlock frowned.

"I don't need to stalk her I have my own things I'm working on. I don't need her." Sherlock pouted. Watson didn't say anything more to him. He was frustrated and angry and when he got there, the second Sherlock shut the door Watson drove off.

* * *

Céline and Mary had begun their walk. Céline had been taking breaks from book preparation and planning to make sure she helped Mary. Walking around the park became the pregnant woman's main exercise. But the last few days Mary noticed that Céline was acting slightly off.

"What's wrong you've been really quiet lately?" Mary finally asked Céline. Céline frowned and shrugged.

"I don't know how much I can say." She vaguely spoke. Mary frowned and took her friend's hand.

"Céline, you can trust me. Is this about Mycroft?" Mary asked. Céline squeezed her friend's hand and sighed, looking around. There was no-one near them, the park that afternoon was quiet. Céline led her friend to a nearby bench and they sat on it.

"It's kind of about Mycroft." Céline nervously explained, she looked around again. Mary looked too and Céline scooted closer to her friend, lowering her tone. "We're being blackmailed."

"Blackmailed?" Mary frowned, her mind racing. She immediately thought of Magnussen.

"It's this man, Sherlock's been investigating him." Céline softly spoke.

"Who?" Mary asked, needing to know. Céline bit her lip.

"His name is Augustus Magnussen…" Céline spoke. Mary's face turned white and Céline frowned.

"Mary?" She asked, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"No, I just. I'm so sorry, Céline. What does he have?" Mary asked, taking her friend's hand encouragingly.

"This recording…it's embarrassing. He managed to hack Mycroft's phone the first night we…well…" She gave Mary a look. "The first night we…" Mary was angry and trying not to show it.

"Oh my god," Mary spoke, shaking her head. "Does he have it on a drive or?"

"I don't know. He had it on his cellphone when he threatened me. Mycroft told me he had it on the same cellphone. I don't know if he has it backed up anywhere else." Céline explained.

"What did he want?" Mary asked, making a note of the phone.

"Protection from Sherlock. Sherlock's gone off the radar so I guess Magnussen was worried." Céline explained.

"Can I help?" Mary asked, "There has to be something I can do?" Mary was desperate. She knew she could help, and she would. But she asked to take suspicion off of her. No-one could know about her old life. Not Watson, not Céline, no-one. Céline squeezed her friend's hand and smiled at her.

"Just stay safe and keep taking good care of yourself and the baby," Céline replied. "Mycroft and I will be ok."

Mary nodded and the friends continued their walk. But Molly knew that when the time came for her to go after Magnussen for what he had on her, that she would destroy this recording that he held over Céline's head.

* * *

Sherlock needed another plan. He paced around in his robe thinking of what he could do next. His initial one had failed and he was angry that Mycroft would soon be breathing down his neck again. Begrudgingly he thought of an idea but it tore him up. Sherlock ventured downstairs and purchased a pack of cigarettes. Promptly, he took one from the pack and lit it, taking a long drawl.

He began a long walk and his thoughts drifted to a woman he had met at John and Mary's wedding, Janine. While setting up seating arrangements Sherlock was made aware by Mary that Janine was Magnussen's personal assistant. His mind was racing, if he could seduce her it would eventually give him access. Sherlock was sure of it. But he thought about Céline. As he ruminated over the decision in his mind he let his anger get the best of him. If she could see another man he could see Janine. After all, he reasoned, it would be temporary. After he got what he needed he could then figure out who Céline was with. Sherlock finished his cigarette and quickly lit another one. There had to be hope for him and Céline but first, he had to take care of this, Magnussen.

Sherlock took out his phone and began the search for Janine's number. He reasoned that now he would have Janine to both distract him and help the case. Unlike the drugs which just served as a distraction.


End file.
